The Compound
by VeiraSurana
Summary: When Javeen Hawke is faced with a deadly venom at the hands of a certain wyvern-loving noble, she finds herself in the healing care of the Qunari. Javeen is thrown into a world she does not know, but ultimately finds she can understand. But the rift between the Qunari and Kirkwall is dangerous. Will she find balance between both lives, or will she have to choose only one?
1. The Venom

(Welcome to the first chapter. This is a story that I've had in my mind for a long time, but it could never have come to me without a certain story that I have loved for a long time. This is a story about a Hawke coming to care for the Qunari compound and forming various friendships between members, in particular the Arishok. It explores the compound's relationships, especially in regards to the converts. I do hope you enjoy, and I want to link the story that is responsible for this story to exist at all. It is absolutely wonderful and very much worth many reads. Here is the link: s/7512092/1/The-Arrowhead by tinyfierce. Please, give it a read :) And I hope you enjoy this story!)

* * *

 _The wind in her hair felt somewhat familiar, from the first journey to Kirkwall by ship. A lifetime ago. This ship was better cared for than the first; better finish, better crew. There was no crowd below huddling together for warmth and to subside sea sickness, no dread or fear of a Blight destroying their home. Such things had long since passed four years ago._

 _But just like before, she was unsure what her future would hold._

 _She glanced back at Kirkwall, watching it slowly fade away in the distance. She was not sure if she would ever see it again._

 _The question was, did she want to?_

* * *

The fight ended with the noble's hand underneath Javeen Hawke's foot.

He fell harshly, bouncing off rock and screaming the whole way down. It was a triumphant moment for Javeen, the end of a long journey filled with Tal-Vashoth, Qunari agents, and Orlesian bullshit. It had been mostly irritating. This fight in particular was especially annoying, and dealing with Orlesian nobles. The worst kind of noble there is. But there were certainly parts of it that had been interesting. Meeting an elven qunari agent for one, was something to check off the mental checklist of things that can exist. But at least the noble and wyvern part was over, thank the bloody Maker.

She glanced down at her armoured torso. It was covered in slimy green goo that was shot from the crossbow of the Orlesian. Some sort of weird material that made the wyvern go nuts and attack her more fiercely. She glanced at the now empty cliffside. Well. It was an attempt. Had to give him credit for that.

But as controlled as she seemed to Merrill and Bethany, Javeen was hiding something important. She could feel warm liquid running down her chest that was not the thick green goo at all. It came from a sharp claw of the giant creature she faced, the black leather of her armour hid the blood quite nicely. Javeen wasn't worried, she'd patch herself up like she always did. She wouldn't make a fuss to her sister, who had to deal with going back to the dreaded Circle after experiencing a little bit of freedom and was exhausted from the fight. Javeen couldn't let a damn injury distract Bethany from the last bit of outside she had left until she was locked away in the Gallows again. She worried too much over such things.

Tallis said her goodbyes bittersweetly, and Javeen was actually sorry to see her go. Sure, she had lied to them on more than one occasion, and Javeen was the sort to not forgive so easily. But Tallis was compelling, and she could answer many questions Javeen had about the Qun. But it was clear that Tallis needed some questions answered of her own, and had to mourn the loss she suffered at the hands of the man Javeen just killed. Since the Hawkes didn't make a habit of hiding away lately, perhaps Tallis would visit one day.

As Bethany and Merrill packed up for the journey home, Javeen snuck away to investigate the wound currently bleeding. Taking off her leathers and placing her bow gently on the ground, she winced at the sight of a drenched shirt. She quickly took it off, pressing gentle fingers along the gash. The wound was deeper than she thought, but still, nothing to worry about. She poured water onto a cloth from her canteen, mopping up the blood and the strange green liquid. The goo didn't hurt, and she had extra of the herbs she used to cure a hound from dying from wyvern poisoning, if this was the same thing.

She cleaned herself and the wound thoroughly, wrapped her chest tightly in bandages, and took the medicine, her face scrunching at the taste. She stared at her dark brown shirt, a long cut through the fabric mirroring the gash on her chest. Luckily, the shirt could easily be worn backwards, and her skin colour was only a bit lighter than her shirt.

Her leathers hid everything that she had done, the mages she loved dearly none the wiser.

She spent the voyage back to Kirkwall in pain, but not enough for Javeen to concern herself over it. She had endured worse.

How wrong she was.

Arriving back home was bittersweet. Mostly bitter. Javeen escorted her sister back to the Gallows (with the "help" of a few Templars), Merrill still at her side. As soon as the ship docked, there were damn Templars waiting to lead them back to that prison, and Javeen did not hide her scowl. She'd never forgive them for taking her sister away.

Merrill made sure the walk wasn't quiet, though she went silent when they went past the Qunari compound. It was quiet at this time of night, with two solemn guards at the front. They watched the group carefully with their dark eyes, ready for anything. Bethany glared at them as she passed them. Their introduction to Qunari had been that lone one that arrived in Lothering years ago, who slaughtered a family that had taken him in. Bethany had been best friends with one of the kids that had been killed, and that wound never really healed.

Javeen could understand that, but she never had a deep-seated hatred for the entire race. They certainly caught her attention, especially the Arishok, but for now they were only high risk residents that she would keep a close eye on, in case they started an all out war. The Viscount all but demanded at least that much.

Javeen stared right back at the two guards as they walked by, not breaking eye contact. She never found them that intimidating, except for the Arishok, but that was perhaps because her stares were similar to theirs. She just wished she knew the reason why they were here at all.

When they reached the Gallows, it was clear the Templars wanted them to leave. Javeen struggled with what to say. Emotional goodbyes were something the elder Hawke was not particularly good at, in fact, having her talk about feelings at all was like pulling teeth. Luckily, Merrill filled in.

"And Hawke will write to you everyday, I'm sure of it," the elf clad in white smiled, "and I'll sneak in some of those lemon candies you like!"

Bethany laughed. "Merrill, _you're_ the one that likes those candies."

Merrill gave Bethany what could only be described as puppy-dog eyes. "Oh, but they are so tasty!"

Bethany's smile weaned, glancing at her shorter, older sister. "It's okay, I don't expect that much in the way of letters and presents. I know it's hard for you. Just-just keep sending me mother's letters and I'll be fine."

"So long as those bastards keep you locked up," Javeen said darkly, well within earshot of their temporary companions, "you will never be fine."

"Am I not allowed to decide if I'm alright now, sister?" Bethany frowned.

Javeen looked up at Bethany, her mouth twisting. "No, that's not what I mean."

Bethany pinched her nose. "I know, but-"

She didn't get to finish that thought, as an arrow whizzed past her cheek, barely missing it by a few inches.

Javeen whirled where she stood in the direction of the arrow, eyes fierce and bow ready. The attackers looked like bandits, which were as common in Kirkwall as rats. Merrill was stuck; she couldn't do any magic while there were Templars nearby. Javeen didn't mind, killing bandits was easy enough. She had already taken one out with a neck shot before Bethany had even casted a retaliation spell.

Javeen easily spotted one bandit attempt to sneak beside her, dagger gleaming in the moonlight, and she moved to get away from the quick slice of the weapon. A feat that would have been normally child's play for her, even when injured. But this time...something was wrong.

She felt a sharp pain in her abdomen and her sight blurred. Falling to one knee, she quickly swung her upper body away from the dagger aimed for her neck, but she had difficulty seeing. Javeen quickly grabbed a dagger of her own, tackling the body in front of her and plunging it into his chest. The strength in her limbs melted into a trembling mess, and she could barely stand up properly. She swore she heard Merrill calling to her, and then...then she felt something lodge into her back.

Javeen stared blankly ahead, the sound of her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. She didn't even process the second arrow piercing her shoulder, stumbling backwards until she collapsed onto her knees. She couldn't see anything, could barely feel anything except the pressure of two arrows inside her. Then, there were two arms wrapped around her, thin like Merrill's.

She was left wondering if it was her, as Javeen's mind faded into black.

* * *

The next time she opened her eyes, everything was a blur. She remembered being in Anders' clinic, the sounds and smell of herbs dead giveaways. But as soon as she managed to focus her senses, they quickly depleted, leaving Javeen with blurry sight and dull hearing. Several figures were around her, one hovering over closely and pressing hands on vitals. Probably Anders. Her suspicion was confirmed when she barely made out a blue glow coming from the figure.

She had been healed by Anders before. It never felt anything like this.

As soon as the blue glow touched her, a pain so intense spread through her like fire. Every inch of skin felt like it was burning, and a powerful nausea was attempting to make her stomach burst open. Her body twisted and thrashed. She was about to cry out, but the blue glow stopped, and so did the pain. She couldn't handle any more intensity, and she passed out completely.

Her mind shifted in and out of consciousness, only registering a few moments of larger figures hovering above her, and the feeling of being carried. She did not know how much time passed, or what was happening.

When Javeen awoke again, the first thing she noticed was an unfamiliar spice in the air. The ceiling above her was not what she was used to; it was made from canvas. It was also exceptionally bright, the sun up and making the white of the tent glow. She tried moving, but her body felt heavy. There was a lot of padding beneath her, her back feeling oddly numb. That was when it all came back to her.

Javeen tried to sit up quickly, but her body groaned in protest, only managing to move her fingers. She felt a hand intwined in hers, and her eyes moved over to see Merrill sitting next to her. She said something, but Javeen still could not hear it. As Merrill turned to shout something behind them, Javeen shut her eyes tight, breathing deep, gathering herself. And slowly, her hearing came back.

"-awake! Come quickly!"

The last thing Javeen expected walked through the flap of the tent; for a moment she was convinced she was hallucinating. The Arishok himself marched through, standing beside the raised bedroll she was occupying, eyeing her with his usual cold black and gold eyes. He was as intimidating as ever, striking warpaint and long black horns decorated with gold. He was adorned with his usual stern face. It had not been too long ago since they last spoke, during the fiasco of the gaatlok incident. But why he seemed to care about Javeen's condition baffled her. If he didn't care, why was he here?

The next person to walk in was another Qunari, who was no where near as imposing as the Arishok, but still had the familiar kossith muscular structure. His face was much softer than the Arishok, more expressive. Massive scars on one side of his head prevented hair from growing, so it looked like he shaved one half of his head and let the other half grow the typical white-blonde hair many kossith have. But more compelling than that, he seemed capable of smiling, sporting a noticeable curve of the corner of his lips. A trait she was not used to seeing on Qunari. He settled himself beside Merrill, towering over her.

It was a relief to see who was behind the mystery Qunari. Varric and Anders made their way awkwardly into the tent, clearly uncomfortable being wherever this was. Varric gave her a grimaced smile, which she returned with narrowed eyes. It was her default.

"Hawke," the Qunari said simply, "how do you feel?"

Her striking blue eyes focused on him. She felt heavy and sleepy, and her body ached like nothing else she felt before. And she was confused as hell. But she didn't want to worry Merrill. As she usually did, she took great lengths to mask the pain. "Fine," was all she said on the matter. "Where is this?"

"Remember when you said you wanted to see more of the Qunari compound?" Varric asked with a grin, "well, your dreams have come true."

"I never said that," Javeen frowned, though it explained a lot. She must be in a healer's tent. And the unknown Qunari a healer, most likely. "Why am I here?"

"To heal," the healer said, folding his arms across his chest. "This is the best place for you to do so."

"That's debatable," Anders said harshly, though he went ignored by the giants.

"There must be more to it than that," Javeen said, eyeing the Arishok, "you wouldn't take me in for no reason."

"No," the Arishok agreed, "we would not." Everyone fell silent when the Arishok spoke, as his presence demanded. "You aided one of our agents, prevented our people from discovery and death," he continued, "we will pay our debt to you."

"Tallis," Javeen stated, and he nodded. She was not surprised that the Arishok was already aware of what happened, though it was damn quick. It was impressive.

"Your injuries are unique," the healer said, after he knew the Arishok was finished, "your healer lacked the knowledge needed to properly treat you. I am familiar with the process. And you will be safer here."

"It's the venom, Hawke," Merrill said, squeezing her hand. "It's worse than we thought."

"I had the antidote for that."

"Yes," the healer nodded, "however, this is a different venom. Wyvern's venom is one that kills quicker, and is curable through an herbal concoction. The one that has infected you slows the body down, such as the healing process, for example. When you attempted to fight, the venom quickened. The only way to cure you is to purge the venom from your system. We cannot attempt this while you are severely injured."

"And the extent of my injuries?" Javeen asked.

"Several deep arrow wounds, including a broken rib," he replied, "punctured internal organs, and an infection from the older wound. Your fever is being treated now. And magic," he frowned, "does not react well to the venom."

Javeen winced, remembering the agony of when Anders tried to heal her. She was begrudgingly impressed by the Orlesian's resources to even procure such a venom. She made a noise in her throat, a combination of a sigh and a scoff. She had two options. One was to heal out in Kirkwall surrounded by loved ones and possible enemies using her condition as an advantage. Or she could stay here, in the land of strangers, where many did not speak her language and were culturally separate from Kirkwall, potentially enemies in the making.

She did not have to think very hard. "I will accept."

"What," Anders shouted, "you can't be serious, Hawke! What makes you think you'll be-"

Javeen held up one, albeit shaky, hand. "And you should know by now I rarely change my mind."

"She has made her choice," the Arishok stated. "My courtesy ends here. _Leave."_

Varric nodded at Javeen, then gave Anders a sympathetic pat. "Come on Blondie, let's not annoy the giants any more than we have. You too, Daisy."

Merrill smiled at Javeen warmly, though worry was still etched into her face. "Bye, ma Vhenan. Have fun with the Qunari! I'll visit when I can."

"Fun" was not the word Javeen would use. But she nodded nonetheless, unsure of a proper goodbye. So she said something completely unromantic, as per usual. "Try not to break the chandelier while I'm gone."

Merrill paused, then let out a relieved giggle. Hawke was being normal. "I won't!" She beamed at her lover, her smile making Javeen feel guilty for choosing to stay here. "And don't worry one bit about Bethany while you're here. She wasn't hurt."

Javeen's body tensed at the mention of her sister's name, completely ashamed that she hadn't thought about her the moment she woke up. But she didn't let it show. "She wasn't? Then...that's good. Thank you."

She watched her companions clear out of the tent when the Arishok's expression made it clear he was losing his patience, letting her breathe out the pressure she felt in her stomach. She hated it when the people she cared about saw her in such a state, unable to protect them if needed. Her father had taught her the most important thing in the world was the ability to protect loved ones, and in this situation, she was nothing more than a weak liability. How could they trust her if they saw her so weak?

The Arishok provided her with an opportunity. She could heal behind the walls of the compound, away from the eyes of her companions and family. They didn't have to see her like this. And when she went back to them, she would be her strong self again. This was weakness she could put behind her.

The two Qunari were speaking to each other in their own language, the Arishok ending the conversation with a curt nod, and a hard stare directed at her. "When you are here, you will obey the healer." He then turned to leave.

"Arishok," Javeen called, and he stopped. She paused before speaking, letting his massive head turn, impressive horns decorated with gold flickering in the movement. Javeen was so sure he would be an enemy one day. She didn't _want_ him to be an enemy. But this went above and beyond any courtesy the Qunari would normally provide for a human. She recognized this. And she would not let the Arishok walk away before letting him know she was grateful. "Thank you."

He was silent for a few moments, clearly not used to hearing those words from a human. He said nothing, but nodded once before leaving the tent.

The healer had a broad smile on his face, an expression on a Qunari that still weirded her out, but not in an unpleasant way. "Congratulations, Hawke. It seems you have stepped up from being an interesting nuisance to a polite nuisance."

"Hm," Javeen hummed, also unaccustomed to humour from a Qunari, "I was not aware your people could smile."

The healer snorted. "Stay here, Hawke, and you will learn many things about us you have never imagined."

She could not argue with that.


	2. Roles of the Qun

(Please check out tinyfierce's fanfic The Arrowhead, if you have not already. It is the inspiration to this story. And a danged good read to boot. You can find it here without the spaces: www. /s/7512092/1/ The-Arrowhead)

The next several days were an example of suffering boredom, as Javeen was still bedridden and could not stand without assistance. The only company she had was the healer, and one injured soldier -an ashaad, she thought he was called?- who could not speak a word of Common. It wasn't as if Javeen felt particularly chatty, but she was used to seeing a lot of people everyday. She had craved solitude ever since arriving in Kirkwall, and now that she had it, it felt too strange.

The healer spoke of not much other than details of her condition. Apparently, if left alone, the venom in her would eventually slow her body down enough for her heart to stop beating.

"How is that possible?" she had asked the healer when he spoke of it.

"It is magical in nature," he answered, "created long ago by tevinter magisters, utilizing their cursed bloodmagic. Orlesians stole the recipe long ago. It is a popular poison against noble rivalries, one that mimics organ failure. That way, the killers are never found."

But that wouldn't happen for a while, so she had plenty of time to heal enough before the venom would kill her. It was meant to kill slowly, and secretly. Orlesians had experimented with it throughout time, adding scents to it to attract animals. Why they do that, Javeen could only guess. Perhaps the scent to attract the wyvern was somewhat of a shield to mask the true intent of the venom. It was indeed clever, and fucking annoying. That pompous jackass wasn't the only one who attempted to tame one, clearly. Damned nobles and their free time.

Thankfully, she wouldn't spend that entire time bedridden. If that had been the case, she would have demanded the purge be done now, damn the consequences.

A week and a half later, Javeen stood without any help.

While Javeen slowly prepared to finally get out of tent, the healer stood next to her. Not only was he 'unique' in that he smiled often, but he was different from the rest from the clothing he wore. The antaam wore very little; tight pants with no shirt mostly. The Arishok was adorned with heavy shoulder armour and a sash around his waist. While tight pants were the same, the healer actually wore a shirt; or rather a robe to be more precise. It only reached about mid thigh, rather than all the way down to his feet like a mage robe would be. It was a crimson red, this robe, and although it covered his entire back, he kept the front of the robe open and loose with a belt around his hips. Long sleeves reached only to his elbow, and he kept flasks of whatever tucked safely in his belt, hanging slightly from strings tied to the necks. Perhaps this was standard fare for qunari healers, but it certainly noticeable. He also had none of the bright red body war paint on him the antaam had.

"No excessive movement, no heavy foods, and do not get in the way," the healer warned, then smiled slightly. "Good luck out there, Hawke."

She raised an eyebrow at him, then huffed. "I have never relied on luck."

"Then you may survive yet."

Javeen immediately squinted as she exited the tent, from the brightness of the sun and the reflection off of metallic skin from the kossith bodies surrounding her. She looked at the ground as she slowly made her way through, waiting until her eyes adjusted to the shine. Many qunari stopped what they were doing to stare at her, this tiny human hobbling on her own. Javeen would return these stares with a stern glare, though not in a hateful way. It was a slightly irritated expression that didn't appreciate the looks, but it did not state hostility.

It was a look the Qunari understood well.

Her snail pace allowed her to fully take in her surroundings. She had never seen the compound beyond the Arishok's dais, so she never really realized until now just how _large_ it was. Every body was moving, doing something productive. There were areas dedicated to weapon care and to weapon making, polishing of swords, spears, fletching arrows. Another area was dedicated to converts, who were training with wooden swords at the moment, their kossith overseer barking orders in qunari tongue.

An area similar to the entrance of the compound was for sparring, wide and open for an arena, with a circle of qunari watching the duels. A seat similar to the Arishok's throne was situated atop a staircase nearby; obviously he would find the time to observe his military in action. She felt a twinge of envy at the qunari currently swinging wooden weapons at each other, knowing she couldn't so much as walk quickly. She huffed and kept going.

Heavy steam at the back of the compound indicated two specific areas; the baths and the cooks. One of which was her goal. She hadn't bathed in over a week, and although her wounds were clean, she felt rather gross. She probably didn't smell too great, either. She headed straight for the baths, which were thankfully closed off by large white tents, with the tops bare to allow the steam to rise out. Built-in trenches to lead bath water into the larger sewage system outside the tent were placed strategically around the baths, construction that Javeen admired.

The only problem was that the baths were completely public. And everyone inside was very naked.

She hesitated at first. She was never known to be bashful and nudity wasn't high on the list of things that bothered her, but it was just the sheer number of nude bodies in one place that weirded her out.

And she couldn't undress quickly.

Exhaling deeply, Javeen began the agonizing process of peeling clothing off her aching body, feeling the brief stares of the occupants inside. Her muscles protested at the upper movement of lifting her shirt over her head, the arrow wounds burning and the long gash across her chest throbbing. Her entire torso was covered in bandages, each band of white taking at least a minute to unwrap. She hissed every time a bandage rubbed against a wound.

After her upper body was bare, she removed her shoes and pants much quicker, setting aside her clothing on racks beside the bathing area. By this time, absolutely no one in the bathing area cared that she was there. The setup was easy enough to understand, there were large stools and buckets for washing, and gigantic tubs filled with wonderfully smelling water for soaking. She filled up a bucket with fresh, clean water, then sat carefully on one of the stools, grabbing a scrubber and going to work. She had to keep it slow, it would be beyond unacceptable if she had another fit because she was washing too quickly.

She carefully avoided her injuries, but ran into the difficult position of washing her back. Twisting her body hurt like a bitch, and she was having trouble reaching certain parts.

"Need any help?"

Her eyes narrowed at the source of the voice. It came from a young elven lad, olive skinned and dark haired, who couldn't be any older than eighteen. Viddathari, no doubt. His sharp, thin eyes had a hint of humour in them as he stared at her face, quite obviously avoiding everywhere else. He was completely clothed, just entered the baths long after she had.

And he was being snarky.

"Kid," she warned, "you are too young to be asking me that."

That shot through his veneer of humour, his cheeks reddening. "Oh, no, I- I wasn't...I apologize Hawke. The healer ordered us to help if you really needed it." His cheeks puffed out slightly. "And I am not a child."

"Sure," Javeen scoffed, reaching towards the area of back that troubled her. She drew in a sharp breath as she scrubbed, the twisting of skin irritating her wounds.

"I am eighteen," he insisted.

Javeen grabbed the bucket. "Eighteen is still kid age." She reached over her head and poured clean water over her body. "Especially if you feel the need to repeat yourself."

Her thoughts went to Carver. Eighteen was too young.

The elf snorted. "I guess you're right." He wandered over towards the racks, his head turned away from her, pulling his shirt over his head.

Javeen ran her fingers through wet red-brown hair, smoothing it out in her usual combed back style. She walked over to the giant tub, nodding back to the kossith already in it as he acknowledged her, and slowly sank into the shoulder-deep steaming water. At least, it was shoulder deep for her. Her teeth gritted as her wounds throbbed in the water. But it was pleasant also, relaxing her tense muscles. Though her eyebrows knotted in annoyance when she heard snickering behind her.

She glared at the elf behind her. "I'm sorry," he apologized again, his chest shaking with laughter, "I just imagined the mighty Hawke a little bit...taller."

He was referring to the fact that while the water ran up past her shoulders, for the kossith beside her the water only reached just past his navel.

Javeen frowned. She was used to this sort of teasing, but would not endure it. "The mighty Hawke has also ripped apart female dragons," she said through gritted teeth, "so shut it."

The elf squeezed his lips together, fighting down the growing grin. "As you wish."

* * *

Just as Javeen was leaving the bath, wondering how the hell she was going to reapply her bandages, a qunari that she recognized as one of the healer's assistants walked in and helped her with them. With a raised eyebrow, she nodded a thank you and allowed him, noticing he also brought a covered basket that he left with her. It was clean clothing, new ones that were for everyday wear. It was a deep red sleeveless shirt paired with baggy pants and a belt-sash, not clothing she would normally associate with the antaam, but it worked for her. Though the pants were a touch long. She folded the hem up to the right length.

Her stomach growled as she exited the tent. There was one part of the compound she hadn't checked out yet, so she headed towards the smell of food. It was about midday, so lunch was probably about to be served. As she approached, she was impressed by the layout. Lines of hot coals and grills were placed as an incomplete square, supplies either placed nearby or tucked away safely underneath the massive stone grills. Pots filled with broths and soups were kept steaming, racks of prepared meats sat waiting to be cooked, while the crackling of grease and oil echoed around the setup. Fire pits made from stone were used to make bread, and there were several qunari at a time each preparing something, the harmony in which they moved back and forth was almost unbelievable. No one got in the way, no one tripped over each other in the limited space.

And possibly the most incredible part of it all was the qunari leading the whole operation. It was a young human _woman_.

The woman noticed Javeen's stare. She was wearing almost identical clothing to hers, though her skin was the opposite of Javeen's; the woman was pale and shoulders adorned with freckles. She had a crown of blonde hair kept tightly in a large black and gold hair clip, its shape similar to a type of Qunari horn Javeen had seen before. The woman quickly grabbed a small bowl, lifting up the top of one of the giant pots of broth and scooping a ladle full. She then cut off a piece from one of the many loafs of long bread placed on top of clean crates to cool. She walked over briskly to the curious spectator, shoving the bowl into her chest.

"Light foods for now, correct?"

Javeen took the bowl slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Right."

The woman nodded. "Good. Now leave. We are busy."

Before Javeen could reply, the woman turned her heels and went straight back to work, grabbing chunks of meat and throwing them on the hot coals.

With nothing to say, Javeen found a corner to sit down at. As she ate slowly, she kept thinking about the cook. As she understood it, women were not allowed to join the antaam. Some strange rule about women's roles being unfit for war and soldiers. Since she commanded kossith with assisting her, she could assume that the woman was not viddathari, converts of the Qun. Or at least, she had been viddathari some time ago. A word she had only just recently learned from the healer. As she finished off her broth and bread, she watched said kossith carry large plates of food and distribute them evenly to each person in the area, and presumably the whole compound.

Her eyes caught the woman once more, carrying a plate filled with a good assortment of foods, but her destination seemed specific as she skipped over some qunari that had not yet received anything. Javeen moved to follow.

And then immediately understood as the woman brought the Arishok his lunch.

He was sitting on his raised dais near the arena, watching the bouts. Though they had stopped as the cooks were handing out food. The woman exchanged a few words with the Arishok, then nodded a goodbye as she returned back to her workplace. The Arishok noticed Javeen's owlish stare at the woman, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Hawke."

Javeen turned her gaze to him, then walked up the steps to stand closer. "Arishok. I was not aware women were allowed in the antaam."

He tipped his head, grunting an agreement. "You were correct before. They are not."

"Then she's-"

"She is the Mashaar," he replied flatly, "and fulfilling her role under the Arigena and the Qun."

Javeen folded her arms across her chest. She remembered him mentioning this title three years ago, although he refused to elaborate. Maybe he would this time. "The Arigena? Is that a similar position to yours?"

He nodded once more. Perhaps since she guessed correctly he was more willing to speak of it. "The Arigena is one of the three pillars of the Qun. The Arishok and the Ariqun are two others. Each represent a part of the Qunari people as a whole; the mind, the body, the soul. As the mind, the Arigena leads the craftsmen."

That piqued her interest. Javeen was quite skilled in such things; ceramics, woodworking, metalworking. She did it as much as she could, making everyday objects like bowls, cups, cutlery, anything that had a need in daily life. She donated her work to the alienage and the poorest parts of Lowtown and Darktown (when they actually accepted it), to the places that needed such things. It was skill that needed constant refinement, and Kirkwall provided much opportunity to keep these skills up to Javeen's standards. But only when it allowed her time to do it. She didn't have much time lately to work thanks to Kirkwall's bullshit. It was oddly satisfying to know that that type of work was considered a part of the 'mind' to the Qunari people.

"She must be highly ranked to be here, though," Javeen observed, "that isn't strange for a human convert?"

The Arishok snorted, something she had never heard from him before. "What you say is often true. But she has proven to be best suited for this role. Her hard work has been rewarded."

"Best suited," Javeen said slowly, the cogs in her brain turning, "because she's human?"

The Arishok fell silent, his interested eyes unmoving from her. He was not going to just give her the answer, he was waiting for her to explain her thoughts. He didn't seem angry at her attempting to figure out the plan behind their reasons, so she didn't feel uncomfortable.

"Leaving your home to come into lands so different from your own is difficult, no matter who you are," Javeen clarified, "so, bringing someone who was born in these lands gives you insight you wouldn't have had without. Any questions about strange cultural differences you can direct to someone you trust."

The faintest of smiles curved the corner of his lip, folding his clawed hands under his chin. "Your assessment is correct. But do not disregard the Mashaar. She would not be here if her skills did not match."

"Of course," Javeen nodded, her hand moving towards her shoulder as she felt the throb of familiar pain. The numbing potion the healer applied in the morning was wearing off. "If I may, I should see the healer."

The Arishok nodded, understanding as she scratched at her bandage. But as she turned to go, he spoke once more. "Hawke."

She turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Why did you assist the Ben'Hassrath?"

Javeen paused for a moment. She figured he would ask this one day. "Thousands of lives were at risk. I wouldn't abandon them."

His brow raised. "Considering the rumours about you, this is surprising."

"I am ruthless to my enemies, Arishok," Javeen said, turning her back to him, "and I don't think you and your people are one of mine."

The Arishok said nothing as she walked to the healer's tent.

* * *

As Javeen grabbed the tent flap to see the healer, she thought about what she had said earlier. About how difficult it is to stay in a place so different from your own. Now that she could walk around and communicate, it struck her how hard that would be considering most of the residents here didn't speak common. Perhaps this was what the healer had meant before, about luck. And if she knew herself, she would not stand for it. Javeen Hawke did not like to struggle one bit.

"Healer," Javeen called, and the half-bald qunari turned his head. "I need books on the Qunari language. I want to learn."

From the smile on his face, Javeen knew she made the right choice.


	3. Javeen's Tools

(Please check out tinyfierce's fanfic The Arrowhead, if you have not already. It is the inspiration to this story. And a danged good read to boot. You can find it here without the spaces: www. /s/7512092/1/ The-Arrowhead)

Javeen blinked away the sleepiness threatening to shut her eyes as she flipped another page of the giant text of translations and poetry in her lap. Studying like this just made her tired after a few hours; she much preferred it when the healer had time to teach by speaking Qunlat to her. But the healer was busy, and couldn't sacrifice precious time to teach the only non-Qunari on the compound simple sentences. She accepted this, irritating as it was. Although she was a "guest" here, she was still nothing more than a nuisance who had daily valid issues that needed attention. And that was not now. She hadn't felt a serious attack since the first, and the only difference she noticed was a few bouts of dizziness. Nothing serious to report.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. She was no longer absorbing the information no matter how many times she read the same sentence over and over. She swept her eyes over the compound, the higher vantage point on top of an empty sentry station was helpful in surveying the going-ons around her. She couldn't help but stay on the arena bouts, watching two Qunari wrestle fiercely, and yet completely in control. She didn't know why she kept torturing herself like this, watching something she desperately wanted to do again, but couldn't. She craved to fight, she craved the feel of clay and wood in her hands, the heat of metalwork.

There was no getting around it, Javeen was extremely bored. Yes, learning the language was fascinating, yes, gradually communicating with the compound was rewarding, and yes, she fully realized that her condition was dangerous and ridiculously specific, but still. Studying all day was impossible for her, and there was nothing else for her to do. It was maddening, and only served to make her angry.

Javeen tipped as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her. They seemed to be getting more common. Perhaps it was time to inform the healer, she conceded with a sigh. She shook her head, composing herself and grabbing her books to leave. Then she heard a noise below her.

She peeked over the edge, and saw the elf she met in the baths below on ground level, a wooden sword in his hands and practising a basic swing. The area around them was not currently occupied by anyone but themselves, shrouded in wonderful shade. Javeen figured viddathari were not permitted to practise without the supervision of a superior, probably for practical and safety reasons. The elf should know this.

"What are you doing?"

The elf jumped in surprise, almost dropping his sword. He looked up at her sheepishly, eyes widening when he saw who it was. He then quickly put the sword down. "Hawke."

"Kid," Javeen nodded, and slowly made her way down the lookout and stairs, careful not to over-do it. "You didn't answer my question."

"It's...it's pretty much exactly as it looks like." He hung his head. "I'm practising."

"Well, you certainly need it. Your posture is rubbish," she said without a beat. Javeen was not known for sugar-coating. He just blushed in embarrassment. "But you realize you're not allowed without supervision, right?"

The elf raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

She put her hands on her hips. "My grasp of Qunlat may be terrible right now, but I know what is smart and what isn't. You could hurt yourself."

"I know, I know," he sighed, "but I just...I want to get better! I want to be able to protect people. How can I do that if I can't use a sword?"

"I thought your roles were chosen for you."

He nodded. "It will be, by the tamassrans. When we get to Par Vollen. But that choice is based on skills we show promise in."

"I see," Javeen said, looking him over. He was thin and small, a body type that was not suited for kossith-type battle. Perhaps that was why she never saw an elven member of the antaam. Though there must be other fighting type roles in the Qun that was not the army. Tallis was the proof of that. There was hope yet for him. "Then pick up your sword."

He looked flabbergasted. "What? But you can't-"

"I'm not going to fight you, just bark orders at you," Javeen interrupted, "starting with your feet. Now pick it up."

And by the Maker, he obeyed. He took a stance, his face nervous of her judgement. She circled around him slowly, shaking her head. "You'd be knocked on your back in seconds with a stance like this. Stand sideways."

"Why sideways?"

"Don't ask questions, just do it," Javeen snapped at him, and he quickly did what he was told. "Good. You are small. Most of your opponents will be bigger than you. Their objective will be either to grab and toss you around like a doll, or hit you with an overwhelming force. Give them less to hit and grab, and you have an advantage."

He smirked. "You would know."

"Don't sass me, kid, or I'll risk an attack just so I can break you in half." Javeen stood beside him, turning sideways to show him what to do next. "Watch my feet. Keep them firmly on the ground. Bend your knees so you can move right away."

He carefully mimicked her pose, inching his feet into the right position and bending his knees slightly. He kept his sword raised and steady. It looked pretty accurate, Javeen had to admit. "Good," she nodded, "now stay like this until I say you can stop."

He faltered a bit as his face fell. "You can't be serious."

"I am always serious," Javeen replied, a hint of a smile on her face, "and you will memorize this position in the most efficient way possible."

The elf muttered something under his breath, but held his position. Javeen watched his limbs begin to tremble, and she remembered the first time she did this. She had been ten years old, hair much shorter than it was now and much less muscle in her arms. Her father was watching, one of the few times he didn't need to care for the twins. He'd circle around her, and occasionally kick at her feet to trip her up. But Javeen was determined to learn, and she would stand again with no complaint. When she managed to dodge his foot and smack him with the wooden stick she held, he'd been so proud. She promised him she'd protect them all, no matter what.

Now he was gone and so was Carver. Bethany was locked up. She failed her promise.

"Kid," she asked suddenly, moving to address him better with arms crossed, "what's your name?"

He blinked at her, wondering where that came from. "I guess it's Camlen for now, until I gain a title."

"Then, Camlen," Javeen said, "if you want, I can keep teaching you."

"No," a deep voice said behind her, "you cannot."

The Arishok towered over her, glaring down in a much more angrier way than he usually did. Camlen immediately moved out of his stance, nodding in respect to his leader. The Arishok cast him a quick look, then turned his eyes back to Javeen. "Viddathari, rejoin the others," he commanded, "Hawke. Follow."

He turned and began to march away, Javeen struggling to keep up with his pace. Irritation blossomed in her core. "What the hell was that? I was just-"

The Arishok stopped suddenly, and Javeen almost ran into him. He turned to her, eyes filled with the same irritation she felt. "You purpose here is to heal, nothing more. Your actions were unnecessary."

"I disagree," Javeen pressed, "he needed instruction, otherwise he'd just injure himself. And don't be angry at him, he just wanted to get better at-"

"I am not angry with him," The Arishok interrupted, "he attempted to improve himself, but sought guidance from the wrong source."

"The wrong sour-" Javeen hissed, but didn't finish that particular string of angry words, as a bout of dizziness overcame her. She stumbled sideways, but caught herself before she fell too much in front of the Arishok. She pressed a few fingertips to her temple, not looking him in the eye. "Excuse me. I feel a bit dizzy."

The Arishok's eyes narrowed, looking her over. He deemed the argument over. "Go to the healer."

That was an order she could follow. Though he seemed intent on finding out the answer to her dizziness as well, and he joined her. The healer was none too pleased that his patient was experiencing something that could be considered a new symptom. His usual slight smile was gone as he felt for her pulse, the Arishok staying in the back waiting for the healer's insight.

"Your heart rate has accelerated," the healer frowned, "have you been engaging in physical activity?"

"Nothing other than walking, no," Javeen said truthfully. "Though I have had a few dizzy spells. I did not realize they could be something more than an occasional thing."

"Hmm," the healer sighed, staring at her. "Strong emotion can increase heart rate. And such changes will increase the flow of the venom in your system. Anger in particular is quite potent."

Javeen glared up at the ceiling. "This venom is ridiculous."

The healer folded his arms across his chest. "It is designed to destroy every advantage a person has. Adrenaline, anger that forces one to fight harder, the ability to move quickly. Do not underestimate it." He tapped his arm. "Although the intended victim for such a venom is usually one who does not engage in such physical activity, so that it can kill in secret. A death from the venom looks natural."

She let out a frustrated sigh. "So what now? Your original plan of keeping me from doing anything isn't going to work anymore."

"My 'plan' was to keep the venom from quickening. Relaxation is the best way to do so."

"Doing nothing all day is not relaxing," Javeen said through her teeth, "it just makes me angry."

The Arishok made a noise through his nose. "You are not teaching the viddathari defence. You are not Qunari, thus you do not have that role here."

Javeen didn't see the difference, but there was no convincing him. But there was something else. "Fine. I have another idea." She took a deep breath, unsure if she would say it right. Luckily it was the first sentence the healer ever taught her, and made her practice everyday. "[I humbly request your help, Arishok.]"

The Arishok's brow raised, never hearing Qunlat from her. He seemed pleased by it. As was the healer who taught her well. "I will hear it."

"But if you allow it, I will require my own tools."

Javeen swore she saw a hint of a smile on the Arishok's face. As it turned out, he would not have it any other way.

* * *

A day later, Javeen waited eagerly at the top of the Arishok's dais, face neutral and arms crossed. Varric had responded quickly to her request, and gathered what she needed in a lot less time than she expected. A sense of calm had enveloped her after Varric's reply. Her treatment was being delivered, something that she sorely missed for far too long. Kirkwall demanded all of her attention, but now, it couldn't. Not while she was in recovery. There was a perk to her injuries after all. The Arishok sat on his seat, waiting to receive the guests invading his compound.

Javeen smiled for real when light elven feet walked into the compound. She began to walk slowly down the steps, not taking her eyes off the beaming Merrill holding something wrapped in white. She also had a long satchel around her shoulder, carrying heavy tools inside. She was unfazed by it. The Qunari around stopped what they were doing to watch, interested in what was being brought to the new occupant of the compound. But it didn't end with just Merrill.

When Javeen and Merrill met up, the shorter woman glanced behind the elf. Varric and Fenris were moving one of the most important, and largest, tools Javeen owned. It was her father's wheel, designed for ceramics. It was pedal operated and heavy, the large metal circle platform weighing enough to give even Fenris a bit of trouble. But Javeen refused to make pottery on anything else.

The other items were various ceramic tools; needles, wooden scrapers and shapers, ribs, ribbon tools of various sizes. Javeen also requested woodworking tools as well, chisels, gouges, sandpaper, all of it. And more of Malcolm's old hand built ones: a torch made from heavy metal with flame runes embedded into it in order to control the heat, and another similar device but with cold runes instead, to control cooling. Her father taught her everything she knew about all these types of skills, having once been an admirable ceramicist, woodworker, and metalworker. When he passed his tools to his daughter, she made sure that they would be used and cared for.

"Ma Vhenan," Merrill said happily, presenting the clothed item in her arms.

"Merrill," Javeen replied, taking the item and running a gentle finger down the length of it. It was a project that Javeen had been working on for a long time, but never finished due to the Blight and Kirkwall. She actually didn't request it in her letter, just tools, but Merrill knew how much she wanted to finish it. Even if Merrill hadn't been living that long in Hawke manor, she still noticed all the times Javeen sighed and stared at the unfinished project as she put on her armour for Kirkwall.

She nodded at the two who put the wheel down momentarily. "You were quick with a reply Varric," she said. "I appreciate it."

"Heh, anything for you, Killer." He stretched his arms. "Though, I kinda wish you'd let me hire a few labourers to carry it."

Javeen frowned. "Would you let a group of strangers handle Bianca?"

Varric tipped his head in agreement. "Point. Now I just wish Aveline wasn't always busy."

Javeen turned to the Arishok watching them carefully. "Permission to bring my comrades into the compound?"

The Arishok leaned forward, resting his mouth against entwined fingers. He was seizing them up. After a few seconds, he nodded once. "They may stay for a short while."

"[Thank you, Arishok.]"

All three heads turned to Javeen in surprise. She ignored them, motioning them to follow as she made her way to where Qunari tend to their weapons, which was also close by the armoury and quartermaster. She was allowed to set up a space for her there, as it was somewhat out of the way and close to where weapons and such were made. She could blend in there.

Fenris eyed her as he helped Varric put the wheel down in its new spot. "You know some Qunlat."

"I'm learning," she replied, placing her project on a shelf inside the weaponry.

"I was more surprised that you asked permission to do something," Varric laughed, "but yeah, the giant language was not something I saw coming."

"Good thing she has learned to ask," Fenris said, completely serious, "the Arishok does not endure being ignored."

Javeen huffed in agreement. "Is everything functioning without me?"

"It's been much more quiet without you," Varric said, shrugging, "but Kirkwall is still doing its thing. I'm keeping a closer eye on everything, don't worry."

Javeen had to just accept that. Not that she didn't trust Varric, but it was Kirkwall. It seemed anything can happen here, at anytime, at any intensity. "Thanks. For all of this. But you may want to get out of here before your 'short while' is up."

"Because of the Arishok, or because of you?" Varric asked. Javeen didn't answer, and just gave him a frown. "Okay, okay. We'll be off. Don't want to find out exactly how short a short while is to the big guy. Take care, Hawke."

Fenris gave her a glance before joining Varric. "Be careful Hawke. Being cautious and following their rules is fine, but do too well and they may try to get you to convert."

Javeen snorted. "Yeah. Sure."

Then there was just Merrill. She took Javeen's hand and smiled, her big green eyes bright. "I miss you, Hawke. I wish I could stay longer." Her eyes widened, raising a finger as she listed off things to say. "Oh! And Leandra told me to tell you that she misses you dearly, and that she's thinking of you all the time, and that's she's okay, and not to worry about her." When she was finished, she had four fingers raised.

"Sounds like her," Javeen nodded, already breaking a rule and worrying about her. "Tell her my condition will improve soon."

"I will."

Merrill leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. Javeen tipped her head back slightly, a very subtle smile on her face. "Sorry, Merrill. I'm not supposed to increase my heart rate."

Merrill, who had looked slightly disappointed from the avoided kiss, immediately blushed with a wonderful silly grin. She squeezed her hand before letting go, and Javeen nodded her goodbye.

When she was gone, Javeen took her wrapped project from the shelf she placed it on, and took the white cloth off it. An unfinished bow was revealed, its shape mostly done, with subtle detail carved into the wood. It was her most ambitious piece thus far, many bows she made in her past amateurish and only for practice. Now it was time to finish it.

But not just yet. She reached into the pack Merrill carried and brought out a sealed bag of clay, cutting a large piece from it. She smacked the clay into the centre of the wheel, prepared a bucket of water and dipped her hands in it, taking a deep, calm breath. She moved her foot up and down on the pedal, the familiar ache in her ankle very welcome. When the wheel started to turn, Javeen had never felt so calm in the compound yet.


	4. The Injured Noble

It was amazing how enjoyable life was when you could do things.

Her stride changed to a more familiar one, of confidence and strength. She was no longer hobbling through the compound weakly, avoiding conversation like when she started. She was still very injured and no where near the date for the purge, according to the healer anyway, but now there was a place for her. Qunari expected her to be there, at her wheel, making pottery. She had stuck to ceramics for now, slowly getting back into the swing of things before trying any wood or metalworking. And she hadn't had a dizzy spell in over a week. Things were getting better.

She greeted all the Qunari she recognized on the way to her wheel after breakfast, to which they would return a quick, but friendly reply. Sometimes she barely spoke in common, except when speaking to the healer or the Arishok, and Camlen when he was around. Qunlat itself was a difficult language, but actually learning it was more straightforward than Javeen had anticipated. It broke no rules it created, grammar structure made sense, and the words were oddly beautiful to say. Javeen could now speak many simple sentences, sometimes broken as they were, but still understandable. She could already tell becoming fluent will be one of her most proudest achievements, if she could.

As she settled on her seat at the wheel, positioning a simple vase into the centre for trimming, the healer came to visit her. He'd been busy all morning with other patients and had no chance to talk to her other than her usual checkup. "Hawke," he said simply.

"Healer." Sometimes they were peas in a pod in regards to how they conversed. The Arishok too.

"Your progress has gone well," he smiled slightly, "to the point where you do not need to live in my tent. I have discussed new accommodations with the Arishok. You will move immediately."

"With the Arishok?" Javeen asked, "I'm not rooming with him, am I?"

The healer snorted. "You are liked, Hawke, but not that much. You will be staying with the Mashaar and her mate."

That was several things to process at once. One, the woman she met had her own accommodations, two, she had a mate in the antaam, and three, the Arishok actually liked her? "I have several questions."

"Which the Mashaar can answer," the healer said quickly, "I would prefer you take your things out of my tent as quickly as possible. I require more room."

The healer started to make his way back to his tent, and Javeen quickly put the vase away to follow. "Things are that bad?"

The healer made a noise in his throat. "Supply runs to the Wounded Coast are perilous with Tal-Vashoth infesting it. There are some antaam needing a healer there, and I will be leaving soon."

Tal-Vashoth? She thought she had cleared them out three years ago. "The lead healer is being sent?" Javeen asked, "that seems too risky."

The healer stopped at the entrance of his tent, a smug smile on his face as he turned to her. "You are concerned for my wellbeing."

Javeen glared. "Don't be a jackass about it. There are very few healers here."

"I am surprised how easily attached you grew to me," he smiled, going through the entrance, "the rumours of you have said nothing true about you."

"Shut it."

"I will return in a few days," the healer said, ignoring her. "I will be well protected. You do not need to worry about my safety." He grabbed a pack filled with supplies, and turned to her. "You will be cared for by those under me."

"You're leaving right now?"

He nodded. "We do not waste time."

Javeen smirked and shook her head. "That you do not. Good luck, healer."

"I have never relied on luck," he smiled as he left, leaving Javeen to gather what little possessions she had. She sighed as she left the tent. She was going to miss the healer, loathe as she is to admit. Not that she would never see him again of course, but in that tent he was the first person she saw everyday, and that was something to miss when it was gone.

Egh. She'd gotten all sappy in this past month and a half.

She made her way to the cooking area, waiting patiently for the Mashaar to notice her. The woman was always busy with her job, and it made sense. Javeen couldn't imagine the logistics required to feed an entire compound three times a day, so it was little wonder they had not conversed ever since the first time Javeen met her.

Eventually, the blonde woman noticed her, and said a few things to her underlings as she made her way over. "Hawke. You've been informed?"

The Mashaar was already walking before Javeen could even answer. "Good," she said quickly, "follow me. I'll show you where it is."

The Mashaar's tent was smaller in size than the rest (which tended to be rather large) and out of the way, made from the same tent material as everywhere else. It did seem like it could fit three people inside, barely. To be honest, this was something Javeen preferred to the large mansion she owned. Hawke manor seemed too big at times, and Javeen struggled with finding something useful to put in all the available places. But her mother loved it, and that was what mattered.

Even the Mashaar was surprised to see a Qunari relaxing on a stack of cushions around a low table, pouring two glasses of red tea. This living area made up the majority of the tent, with an armour stand at the side and two curtains cutting off what Javeen assumed to be sleeping areas. The Qunari in question looked up at the two, his face the usual kossith neutral. He had a sharper face than the healer, with two scars on his upper lip. He had the longest hair out of the kossith she'd seen so far, reaching his hips and tied back in several hair ties, each lower than the last. He seemed to have four horns in total, but they were so close together they could be considered one. One horn on each set curled behind his ears while the other moved away, and it was the exact shape the Mashaar's hair clip was. Or rather, the hair clip was the same shape as his horns.

Although it was obvious, that last detail confirmed that he was her mate.

"Kadan. Hawke."

Javeen's eyebrow raised at the term she was not familiar with, but stayed silent. The Mashaar put her hands on her hips. "Kaaras, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with the Arishok?"

Kaaras. So her mate was a, or probably, _the_ navigator of the compound. He nodded slightly. "He permitted me to greet Hawke when she settled here. And I saw fit to make sure you take a break after the morning meal."

The Mashaar puffed her cheeks at him. "I will take a break. Later."

"Your dedication is, as always, exemplary," Kaaras said as he stood, "however, like any sword, if you do not care for it, it will break. You are the same."

The Mashaar sighed heavily. "Alright, alright. I get it, I will."

"Why are you speaking Common?" Javeen asked suddenly. These two naturally spoke Qunlat to each other, and it wasn't as if she was a part of the conversation.

Kaaras stared at her curiously. "I am aware how disconcerting it is to be around a language you do not understand. I do not wish to be rude."

The Mashaar smiled warmly. "Kaaras is very polite. And I try to be, sometimes."

If Javeen had any doubts whether she would get along with these two, they were gone now. "I see. [Thank you.]"

Kaaras nodded at Javeen, appreciating the gesture. "I must return to my duties. I will return later, kadan."

"I look forward to it," the Mashaar said, watching him as he left. Javeen wondered how the mechanics worked between the two, a human and a kossith. Did the Qun care that she was human? She thought mates were specifically for breeding in the Qun, but it wasn't as if the Mashaar would raise any child they produced. Was she okay with that? She had to have lived in human society before converting.

The Mashaar eyed her. "You think it's strange that I'm mated to a Qunari."

"Not strange," Javeen said, "just...unexpected."

The Mashaar gestured to the table and the tea, sitting back on the mountain of cushions and sinking into them. Javeen followed suit, and almost melted into comfort. She took the large cup of tea, admiring the craftsmanship; it was perfectly thrown to fit a kossith hand, no handles, no saucer. No need for any of those things. Javeen had to use both her hands to drink from it, but she didn't mind. Good ceramics always came first.

The Mashaar took a sip of tea, then sighed. "I suppose to an outsider it would be. They assume Qunari are unemotional beasts. But they forget that I am Qunari too. So having a Qunari mate is not at all unusual."

Javeen wondered if she had this conversation before, perhaps with someone close to her. As in familial. "You being human isn't a concern?"

"Not at all," she answered immediately, "the Qun accepts any. Race is inconsequential. So long as the union is beneficial, any member is acceptable."

"And you don't mind the way children are raised?"

The Mashaar snorted, her eyes growing distant as if recalling something. She shook her head. "I'm not naive. I joined the Qun twelve years ago, I know exactly what this entails. And I accepted it long ago. Kaaras and I have been mates for five years, long enough to know what I'm doing. Though I'm not sure _you_ know how the Qunari raise children."

"The Chantry has probably coloured it to suit them, true," Javeen nodded. Ever since the Qunari arrived in Kirkwall there has been nothing but scared whispers of the monstrous beasts living beside the docks. Javeen never paid them much mind, but they still lingered. And it wasn't as if she could go up to any Qunari and demand them to justify or explain the way they do things, especially when her information was very biased by an opposing religion.

"The Chantry most certainly does that. Probably sheds fake tears for the unsung mothers whose babies were torn from their arms by the tamrassans." The Mashaar shook her head. "All twaddle. The sires don't raise the children, sure, but that doesn't mean they are taken away. They are well loved by those who have the role of child care."

Javeen nodded, understanding. She had been blessed with great parents, but it was naive to believe that all parents were suited to raise a child. Non-Qunari systems didn't always work, as she was certain that some Qunari systems didn't either. But at least the Qun preached working together in unison, as Tallis had made clear in their time spent in that jail cell, instead of fighting amongst each other to get ahead. But there was one more thing that Javeen was curious about. "If you don't mind me asking," she said slowly, "why did you join the Qun?"

The Mashaar looked at her with a small smile, finishing off the last of her tea. "The same reason why most join the Qun," she said, "for the certainty. For the peace of mind. To feel truly valued. Tell me, Hawke, do you feel that way? Here in Kirkwall?"

Javeen paused. Her mind flew through thoughts, excuses, reasoning. Did she have peace of mind here in Kirkwall? Not even close. Did she feel valued? Amongst her companions, absolutely. But Kirkwall? She was valued to a point, for their own means. Was that not enough?

Though nothing was certain in Kirkwall, that was for sure. Maybe that was why the Qunari hated it so much here.

"I can't answer that," she said truthfully.

"I couldn't either before I joined," the Mashaar smiled, "but I worked hard to find my answer. And here I am. When I am with the antaam, they rely on me to survive. No matter how powerful your army is, they will crumble if they starve." She closed her eyes, taking a calm breath. "I am valued here. I am loved here. My purpose is here, to cook. I am complete here, amongst my companions and family. And thus, I do not struggle."

Javeen stared at her almost in awe. She could see why the Qun was appealing. That absolution, that feeling of fitting in perfectly with your surroundings and comrades, fulfilling the dedication you put in to your own life, was something she herself wished she had. She was envious of the human woman in front of her, though she needn't be. But it was hard not to when one was in front of someone who had all their shit together.

"Your achievements are incredible," Javeen said while sipping her tea, "I hope you are allowed to feel at least some pride in it."

The Mashaar chuckled. "We are, but there is no use for boasting needlessly. I do what I need to do, and I receive exactly what I need in return."

"And the reason you have a tent with your mate is simply because you have a mate?"

"Mates generally live together, it's the same as with your society," she replied, "we Qunari value routine and normalcy. Since Kaaras and I are the only mated ones here, we have our own tent. You are considered our...guest."

"Then I promise not to intrude as much as possible," Javeen said, finishing off her tea and placing the massive mug on the wooden table. She winced as she stood, her broken rib still making such tasks difficult, and nodded at the Mashaar. "I look forward to living with both of you for the remainder of my healing."

"Don't forget, you still live with all of us," the Mashaar grinned, "but I appreciate the thought. Now, if you will excuse me," she said while standing up, "I must return to my station."

Before the Mashaar left the tent, Javeen prepared to ask one more question that still nagged at her. It was more a question left from human sentimentality that the Mashaar may not appreciate, but still. If she didn't like it, Javeen would just apologize. "Do you mind if I ask," she said cautiously, "what your name was before you converted?"

The Mashaar's eyebrows raised, though not in discomfort. She let go of the white canvas in her hand as she turned to face Javeen better. "It isn't as if I lost the name," she said slowly, "it just isn't who I am any more. I haven't used or said my name in a very long time." She drew a long breath, a curious smile on her face. Javeen couldn't decide if it was sad or happy. "My name w...is Vaneya. You can call me that if you want."

"No," Javeen shook her head, "you are the Mashaar. That is who you are."

The Mashaar crossed her arms, her head tilting and her smile returning. "When the Arishok told me you were staying with us, I admit, I didn't like it. I figured you were like the rest of Kirkwall, people who would never understand us or tolerate us. I thought you'd get in our way." She shook her head. "I'm glad to say I was wrong. You understand better than any bas I've ever met. Maybe more than you'd admit."

Bas. The word for foreigner. And thing, evidently. "I still don't understand everything. Probably far from it," Javeen shrugged, "but thanks."

"At your pace, you will one day," the Mashaar said, "and when you do, perhaps...perhaps you will wish to stay."

Before Javeen could reply, the Mashaar disappeared through the tent's entrance, leaving the archer to her alarmed thoughts. Maybe what Fenris warned before was true. She could still say without a doubt that she didn't want to convert, but...the appeal was there. She shook her head. She wouldn't abandon her companions, her mother, the life she had. Even if it stressed her out to no end.

She returned to her wheel to calm her thoughts.

* * *

It was odd to wake up without the healer hovering nearby, mixing herbal remedies or attending other patients. It even felt weird to be somewhere that felt like hers, her own bed, her own small room. Being with the qunari and sleeping in the healer's tent had left her used to sharing a space, with no curtain or door to cut her off from the rest of the occupants. Truly, the tent wasn't hers of course, the Mashaar and Kaaras slept in the curtained room right next to her. But even so, not waking to the half-bald healer's smile and various injured qunari was... noticeable.

Javeen shifted up slowly, wincing at the usual pains covering her torso. She didn't sleep on her back anymore because of the first arrow injury, which left her uninjured shoulder popping with pins and needles as it slowly regained the blood flow. She gently rubbed the bumpy, rough flesh on her other shoulder, checking the progress of healing. It was damned slow, just as the healer warned it would. When you were used to magical healing, everything else seemed slow. _How much longer until the purge,_ she wondered, hoping it would be soon. As much work as she got done here, Kirkwall would not be silent forever.

Funnily enough, noise caught her attention from the room beside her. Judging from the lighter footsteps and the heavier breathing still going steady, the Mashaar was up and starting her day. Qunari were early risers, but the Mashaar was early even for antaam standards. Made sense, since she had to get breakfast ready before the entire compound was up. She listened quietly as the Mashaar dressed and mucked around in the living area, then left the tent completely.

Normally Javeen would go back to sleep at this time, but the hissing pain of her injuries and the fact that they were healing so slowly kept her awake. Sighing, she got out of bed carefully. The air still had a chill to it, as the sun was not up yet. This was the first time experiencing the compound so...quiet. No sounds of weaponry being fixed, no voices speaking Qunlat, no bouts and foot stomping. Oddly enough, the silence didn't make the compound seem more peaceful, even with the noise this place always had an aura of actual tranquility around it. She couldn't explain why exactly. Maybe it was the sense of belonging everyone had, maybe it was the structure that worked so well. There was no chaos here.

No one outside this place, besides other Qunari, would ever believe that.

It was too early to work on the wheel. She wandered over to where the bouts took place, stepping into the empty arena. Surrounding her were thousands of giant footsteps covering the dirt, the image of a circle of qunari stomping the ground when each match finished flooded her mind. The difference in perspective was incredible, instead of watching from a distance or above, she was right there, ground level. Just imagining being in this circle, sun pounding on her dark skin and moving slowly around, waiting for her opponent to strike first, filled her with excitement. Instinctively, she turned sideways and moved her feet into a defensive stance, seeing a tall qunari in front of her charge, and then-

"What are you doing?" a flat voice asked behind her, making her shoulders jump slightly. She recognized his voice right away.

She let a breath out. "Shanedan, Arishok."

"Shanedan, Hawke," he said, folding his arms across his chest, "what is your answer?"

Javeen mumbled something inaudible, feeling the frown of the Arishok deepen. She felt a slight flush on her cheeks, surprised at the embarrassment. She couldn't remember the last time she felt like that. It was certainly the first time in front of this particular person. "Ah..." she finally managed, "just. Practicing my imagination, I suppose."

The Arishok regarded her with...something. It wasn't anger, the frown on his face was what he almost always sported. But he was staring at her curiously, his eyes more fixed on her injured shoulder. "You wish to fight in the arena."

"Is that a surprise?"

"No. But it is unwise to wish for the impossible."

Javeen sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Yeah. You're right. I guess I'm just...worried. I've never gone so long without keeping up my fighting skills, you know? I'll be much slower when I can get back into it."

The Arishok nodded, understanding. "It will not be so forever."

She blinked up at him, a fracture of a grin curving the corner of her mouth. "You're awfully comforting this morning."

He snorted dismissively, turning to ascend the steps of his dais. She wondered what he was doing; there was no point to sit in his usual throne to watch nothing. He instead sat cross-legged on the edge of the stairs, keeping his back straight and eyes closed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, with a hint of humour.

His brow furrowed, keeping his eyes closed. "Meditating."

Oddly enough, Javeen wanted to join him. This was a weird morning, and having never done something like that before, she might as well do it too. It might be something she would enjoy. "May I join you?"

The Arishok said nothing, but made a noise in his throat that sounded like an agreement. She ascended the stairs and sat beside him, eyeing his position to mimic for her own. Her fidgeting seemed to irritate him, as he opened an annoyed eye that told her to stop squirming.

"Sorry," she said, finally settling, "never done this before."

"Then there is little wonder why you cannot control your anger."

Javeen snorted. "I deserve that."

He did not take his eye off her. If only she could hear the thoughts running through his head when he did this, their conversations would go much faster and smoother. "Your stance..." he said slowly, after a minute of silence, "you were attempting to teach the viddathari the same."

That wasn't the question she expected. "Yes," she nodded, "it would suit him."

The Arishok rumbled in his throat. "It was a sound strategy."

Javeen frowned at him, wondering where he was going with this. Did he want an apology? Maybe she had overstepped, even if she didn't know why. She sighed. She was terrible with apologies. "Look. I apologize for my actions. I don't get it, but, your compound, your rules. Won't do it again. Though it would be nice to know why."

The Arishok narrowed his eyes. "I have already stated my reason. I will not repeat it."

"So...it's because my role here is to heal? That's it?"

He gave her a hard stare. "A role is your purpose. It cannot be ignored."

"But it can be changed," she challenged.

When he didn't answer, she continued. "You were not born as the Arishok, I'm assuming. A role like yours isn't something you can be born into. You worked for it. I'm sure you've always been a part of the antaam, but, still. The Sten role is not the same as the Arishok's. It changed." She smirked. "So my role can change, so long as I prove worthy."

"You are not Qunari," the Arishok frowned.

"True, but I am a part of this place, even if for only a few months. That's why I have a role." Satisfied with that, she returned to the first question. "Why ask about the kid, anyway?"

The Arishok made a noise in his throat, and it didn't seem to be annoyed. Apparently, she seemed to be right about her role. But best not to push it. Yet. "It is...unexpected that you have formed bonds with the men so quickly. They expect you to be here."

Javeen shrugged. "They are easy to get along with. Nothing like the nobles I deal with constantly."

Just the thought of the nobility of...anywhere made her blood boil. Now she definitely needed to meditate. The Arishok just snorted, then closed his eyes. Before she did the same, she noticed something different about him. When he sat in this thrones, his posture was terrible. He slouched so much that her mother would scold him if she could. But right now, his back was straight, no leaning forward on his knees, or resting his chin on his hands. A small breath of amusement escaped her, and she closed her eyes.

"What," said the annoyed voice beside her.

"Nothing important."

* * *

A few days later, the healer returned.

Commotion unlike any event in the compound drew the attention of all; loud shouting of Qunlat so quick that Javeen couldn't pick up most of what they were saying. Soldiers were being carried on stretchers, all injured to varying degrees, some serious and some very serious. Everyone was being called to assist, to carry the large bodies carefully and small hands from the viddathari to help pull out debris in wounds. Saarebas brought out on leashes to heal.

Javeen waited for a call to help out. One that never came.

She kept her distance to not get in the way, though she scanned through the crowd to find the healer. It was rather difficult to find him, there were so many bodies moving all at once. The injured were placed in rows for now, the healer's tent was being prepped to take in the soldiers and needed to be organized efficiently. This was the first time Javeen would describe chaos in this place, or at least it was as close to chaos as it could get. It was understandable, these were all comrades who were hurt. But it proved that the situation was more dire than perhaps the healer thought.

The Arishok marched in to survey his soldiers, his face somehow more serious than usual. She followed him quietly behind, as he was well aware. He found the healer before she did. He paused strangely as he looked down at the stretcher next to the healer, his eyes narrowing and expression unreadable. Javeen followed his eyes, looking at the person occupying the stretcher.

She immediately understood the Arishok's reaction.

It was not a soldier who lay there, not even a Qunari. It was a human girl, around the same age as Camlen. She wore finery and had dark skin, with black hair shaped like a cloud, though right now it was matted and covered in blood. Her injuries were dire, her arm broken and blackened from a bruise that spread, bloody pools on her shoulder and stomach. And one long bloody gash across her cheek and left eye.

Worse of all, Javeen recognized the girl. Try as she might to not know, Javeen had an awareness of the nobility in Kirkwall. This girl was the youngest daughter of the Linett family, Joanna Linett. Why the hell did the healer bring back an injured noble girl?

She assumed the girl hadn't helped a Ben'Hassrath like a certain someone.

The Arishok wanted to know why there was yet another human in his compound. He was speaking to the healer so quickly she could only pick up a few words; 'help,' 'human,' 'fell.' It made Javeen appreciate the qunari more; when she spoke to them, they obviously slowed their speech down for her benefit.

When their talk was finished, the Arishok turned away quickly, marching his way back to his dais, to co-ordinate his men better. He did not look at Javeen as he passed her, his jaw hard. She watched him go, past the rows of his hurt soldiers, and Javeen could finally feel the heavy weight that was on the Arishok's shoulders. He'd never complain about them, but there were so few of the antaam, only about a few hundred or so, that losing just one soldier could be the difference between survival and Kirkwall overrunning them in a last ditch effort to be rid of them once and for all. She did not envy him.

She turned back to the healer, who was wrapping the girl's head in new bandages. He never stopped working, but he acknowledged her presence. "I hope you do not need medical assistance at the moment."

"No," Javeen shook her head, "though I can't decide whether you are in trouble or not."

He made a noise through his nose. "I have explained my reasons, and the Arishok has accepted them." He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. "How long this will last, I cannot say."

Javeen folded her arms across her chest. "Why did you do this? Not that I'm saying you're wrong, it's just...I thought this didn't happen. I mean, the reason why I'm here is because of a debt."

The healer stood slowly, watching two qunari take each end of the stretcher holding the girl and making their way to the healer's tent. "When we found her, it was obvious she'd been attacked by Tal-Vashoth. Arrows, spearheads. Still she walked to us, barely conscious. She could tell that we were not the same as her attackers."

"A non-qunari could tell the difference between Qunari and Tal-Vashoth?"

He nodded. "Yes. It is...curious."

She frowned at him. "That's the only reason?"

He looked to the ground, his earrings chiming at the motion. He peered at the blood on his hands -the girl's blood- and wiped it off onto his crimson robe. The blood almost disappeared. He then looked up again, at his tent. "She asked for help."

Without another word, he too joined his companions and patients in his tent, in for a long night of work. Javeen chuckled to herself, shaking her head.

She'd punch the next person who said all Qunari were heartless.


	5. Spark

Javeen's checkup was much more crowded that morning.

The healer couldn't see her right away. Since she was not in immediate peril, she was shoe-horned into a corner to wait for her turn, awkwardly in the middle of two patients. Most of them were unconscious, the patients, though some were awake and could stand. The healers had obviously worked all night.

One of the patients she was close to was the girl, Joanna. The last time Javeen had seen her was at a party she was forced to attend with her mother. The Linett's had been the hosts; Lacrissa Linett, her two sons, and Joanna, who had spent the whole party quiet and in the background. Javeen had hated the whole thing. Lacrissa was a menace; irritating, obnoxious, and very typically a noblewoman. She spent most of the evening giving Javeen subtle glares because she showed up in armour. Lacrissa's sons were just as bad; pompous, arrogant, very full of themselves. The evening had ended poorly after Lacrissa suggested marriage between Javeen and one of her sons. Javeen responded with a casual: "when the mountains turn to dust and my mabari stops eating shit."

Normally Javeen would suggest a duel between potential suitors, and if they won she would marry them. Leandra made her promise to stop doing that. Too many broken noble bones.

During that party, Javeen had barely acknowledged Joanna's existence. Now, she could do nothing but. The bandages that covered half her face drew most of her attention. What was she doing on the Wounded Coast in the first place?

Thirty minutes passed when the healer finally found his way over to his old patient, Javeen noticing dark circles under his eyes. He did not act tired of course, but thanks to Anders she could see exhaustion quite clearly now.

"Hawke," he nodded, "my apologies for making you wait."

"Don't worry about it," Javeen replied, "have you been up all night?"

"I assure you, my abilities as a healer are not hindered," he said, with a hint of exasperation, "remove your shirt."

That wasn't what she had asked, but she also didn't want to admit she was worried about him. "Well, good," she said while lifting her shirt over her head. "Wouldn't want that, would we?"

He was silent as he examined her, which was unlike him. It was disconcerting to see him like this, no broad grin, no teasing of anything he found amusing about her. Silence these days were not a comfort for her, much to her surprise. "So," she began, nodding towards Joanna, "what's her condition?"

The healer glanced at the girl, then back at Javeen's injuries. "Several internal wounds. Severely broken arm. There is a good chance she will lose sight in her left eye. But she will live."

"Hm, good. Her awful family will be relieved."

His brow quirked. "You know her?"

"She's a noble," Javeen replied. "Joanna Linett. I've met her once."

"Then let us hope she is more like you rather than the rest of the nobility," the healer frowned, then nodded. "Your healing is proceeding as planned."

Javeen's eyebrows raised from his praise. She was very flattered by that, one of the highest compliments she'd ever received. She was unsure how to respond. "A compliment from you? You really are unwell."

Ah, sarcasm. The answer to every awkward social situation.

The healer snorted, a familiar grin growing on his face. "Was it a compliment? The only noble I have ever met personally other than you was the man that did this." He pointed to the scarred, bald side of his head. "Low standard to meet, Hawke."

Now that caught her attention. "Who did that to you?"

The grin disappeared as he grew silent, his eyes distant. "A vashedan Tevinter magister attacked me during my youth. I survived while my parents did not. In my grief, I killed him. Magical scars can heal, but mine did not."

Javeen paused, not expecting any of that. "Your...parents?"

"I was not born to the Qun," he explained, "I joined not long after they died."

"You were Tal-Vashoth?"

He shot her a warning glare. "I was Vashoth. There is a difference, and you had better learn it."

That was the first time she'd seen him angry like that. She immediately regretted what she said. It took a lot to piss someone like him off. "I'm sorry. Really."

His features softened at the sincerity in her voice, and sighed. "That man was the first, and hopefully last, person I have killed. My opinion of nobility has been low since then, and they have done nothing to improve it. You are a welcome anomaly."

"Probably because I feel the same way," Javeen smirked, then shook her head. "But damn. I'm sorry you went through that."

"It is in the past."

Javeen said nothing as she put her shirt back on, fresh bandages wrapped and numbing salves applied. As he turned to attend other patients, Javeen called for him. "Hey. If she wakes up and I'm not there," she pointed to Joanna, "could you let me know?"

His brow raised. "Why?"

"Because she'll probably want to see a familiar face instead of a bunch of large strangers."

The healer pondered that, then nodded. "Very well. You will be informed."

She sighed as she exited the tent, absorbing everything she just saw. The sheer number of seriously hurt people in that tent was staggering. She'd been on the Wounded Coast plenty of times, and it was certainly dangerous, but...what was going on? And why was that girl there? It did not sit well with her. Kirkwall was acting up.

And the healer. Finding out he was Vashoth, and what he experienced as a child. Damned Tevinter probably assumed they were Qunari just because they were kossith. In the end, the healer became Qunari, but still. Nobles were garbage, no matter where they were from. Especially Tevinter.

Javeen noticed the shine of the Mashaar's hair close by, the blonde woman staring owlishly in her direction. She rarely stopped doing her work, so something was up.

"Something wrong?" Javeen asked when she stood beside her.

"Do you know why the healer brought that girl here?" the Mashaar asked without a beat.

By the tone of her voice, the Mashaar was not pleased by these events. Javeen raised an eyebrow. "Because she asked for his help. Is there something wrong with that?"

The Mashaar's eyes narrowed, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't like it. She's not involved with us in any way. It makes me nervous that she's here."

"She's not even doing anything," Javeen frowned, "she's not even awake."

"It's not just about what she's doing, Hawke. It's what the rest of Kirkwall is doing about her being here that worries me."

Before Javeen could respond, loud voices, both Qunari and other, gained velocity at the entrance of the compound. The Mashaar and Javeen exchanged a quick look before heading in that direction. Javeen was shocked to find a group of humans gathered at the gate. And they did not look friendly. There must have been about twenty people or so, all looking like they belonged in middle class. Some of them were armed. Worse and worse.

"-we saw her carried in here, you can't-"

"You are not permitted entry, human," one of the guards snarled down at the intruders, speaking to the one who spoke up.

"You can't hide humans in your compound," the man insisted, getting braver by the second. "Bring her out so she can-"

Javeen had heard enough of that. "What the hell is this?"

The mob of humans all stared at her, taken aback by her presence. Whispers echoed throughout the group, but the man who seemed to be the leader stood his ground. "Who are you?"

"Hawke," Javeen replied simply, and most of the group gasped in surprise. She was rather well-known now. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"There was a woman carried in here last night, a human girl," the man explained quickly, "we want to know why these...these oxmen have taken her."

Javeen's jaw tightened. "Because she is injured. And was found by Qunari. That's it."

"That can't be why!" A murmur of agreement ran through the group. "And why are you here, Hawke?"

"None of your damned business, that's why," Javeen snarled, losing her temper. "I've told you the reason. Now get lost."

The Mashaar shifted behind her, Javeen already knowing the look on her face. Eyes narrowed, posture tight. If these idiots escalated the situation, the guards would retaliate. She could feel the Arishok's stare in the distance behind her, and if he got involved, Kirkwall might see more of the Qunari than they ever wanted. She couldn't let that happen.

"How can you trust them, Hawke," the man asked incredulously, "are you really supporting these giants kidnapping little girls-"

"Stop."

The man did. The rest of the humans also stopped their whispers and fell silent. They could probably feel the heat coming off of Javeen's eyes, wondering how the ice blue colour of them could feel so hot.

She could feel an attack of dizziness coming, but she stood her ground. She would not let the venom beat her before sending these pieces of shit away.

"Shut the hell up," she hissed through her teeth, "you want to frame it like that? Fine. You are wrong. How about you actually do your duty as a concerned citizen and get the city guard? I recommend Aveline, she's the most competent."

"But-"

"GET OUT," she finally yelled, "BEFORE I TAKE YOUR PITIFUL THREAT SERIOUSLY AND TREAT YOU LIKE A COMMON BANDIT!"

One of the things Javeen Hawke was most famous for was the sheer number of bandits she has killed. The number was almost unbelievable.

Luckily for her, these people believed it. They were gone in a flash.

She watched them flee with their metaphorical tails between their legs. She huffed at them, hand on hip, struggling to keep her balance. She didn't want to fall in front of anybody. The dizziness clouded her eyes, and she closed them. If she waited, she'd be fine. But Maker, was she angry. Angrier than she had been in a long time.

The Mashaar strolled over towards her, arms crossed again and looking none-too-pleased. "Did I not say-"

"I get it," Javeen frowned. She felt the Mashaar take her arm, dragging her towards the healer's tent. Javeen didn't know what was worse, being dragged like this or protesting being dragged at all. She decided to do nothing, scowling the whole way. She watched one of the guards from before make his way to the Arishok's dais, no doubt to report what just happened. It gave Javeen a bad feeling.

The Mashaar shoved Javeen through the entrance, calling the healer over in Qunlat. Javeen really didn't know how to look sheepish, so she went with her default; a hard stare.

"So that was your voice," the healer sighed, shaking his head. He pointed to an unoccupied cot. "Sit."

Javeen complied.

"I'm returning to work," the Mashaar said, then paused. "I hope this doesn't incite a war, Hawke."

Javeen blinked. Her paranoia was one thing, but if the Qunari themselves believed they could go to war, that was another thing. "You think it'd go that far?"

"Kirkwall is a menace," the Mashaar frowned, "we do not like it here, but we can't leave. The Arishok...he won't..."

"What?"

She looked away. "There's only so much he will endure."

Javeen kept silent as the Mashaar left the tent. This was troubling. There was no way in hell she'd let the Qunari rampage through Kirkwall, not if she could help it. There had to be something she could do. As if summoned by her thoughts, the Arishok entered the tent not too long after the Mashaar left.

"Is she well?" the Arishok asked the healer, and he nodded.

"There is not much to be done here. She may leave."

The Arishok shot her a hard stare. "Follow. You are wasting valuable space here."

Javeen actually agreed with him on that point, following him. He walked slower than normal, no marching, letting her keep a pace that was not going to trigger a reaction from the venom. She thought he was taking her to his dais, but he was heading towards a place she had not gone to before. His personal tent.

It was much larger than the Mashaar's tent, though laid out inside in a similar fashion. Large cushions around a small wooden table, a stand for armour and his massive war axes, and a curtain in the back that was covering the bedroom. One major difference however was the large bookshelves in the main living area, filled to the brim with texts and maps. It was an impressive collection for one man.

The Arishok relaxed into his cushions, motioning her to join him. The Qunari had it right when it came to furniture, their couches were extremely comfortable. Although, she noted, holding back a smile, that these cushions were probably the source of his bad posture.

Seconds after she had settled, a qunari entered the tent and placed a large steaming teapot on the table, with two cups. Seemed like tea was a way to welcome someone into your personal space in the Qun.

He poured himself a cup, taking a quick swig and pouring some more. He let the next cup settle, as he leaned forward. "Explain what happened earlier."

Javeen poured herself some tea, expecting this. "A few people wanted to know about the girl. Thought she was taken by force. I explained that they were wrong."

The Arishok snorted. "A loud explanation."

Javeen sipped her tea, frowning. "Yeah, well. I've learned that yelling and threatening is the best way to get through Kirkwall. Within moderation."

"I was told that you sent them away to a specific person, a city guard. Who?"

"Aveline," Javeen said, "she's the captain."

He folded his hands, resting his mouth against them. "And you trust her?"

"Definitely," she nodded, "Aveline is one of my oldest friends. She'll believe me when I say they are wrong about the girl."

He let out a sigh, straightening himself as he leaned back. "I see."

"I suppose I overstepped again," Javeen said, "I apologize for that."

He nodded at her. "Acknowledgement is an improvement. However, in this case, I accept your assistance. It is unlikely those humans would have left without your interference."

Javeen thought about that. "You accept because it was for the greater good?"

"Yes," The Arishok nodded, "choices that protect all are the only choice."

"And what about the healer? His choice to help the girl?"

"It is a healer's nature to assist the hurt," The Arishok answered clearly, "I cannot fault him for being a healer. That is his role."

"What about the girl?"

His brow furrowed slightly. "She may stay until her life is no longer in danger, or should she choose to leave."

"Huh," Javeen smiled, "generous."

"And," he continued, "so long as her presence does not threaten the compound."

Ah. There it was. The unease was back. Javeen stopped the threat for now, but could she keep it up? She couldn't worry about that now. She'd talk to Aveline when she inevitably showed up, and that will be that. She took one last sip of her tea, thinking about the healer still. "One more thing," Javeen said, "what's the difference between Vashoth and Tal-Vashoth?"

The Arishok narrowed his eyes. "The healer has spoken of his history."

Nothing ever got past this guy. "Yeah."

"Tal-Vashoth are those who have rejected the Qun. They wander purposeless outside Seheron, searching for meaning where there is none. Vashoth are their descendants. They did not choose to reject the Qun. They may find their place in the Qun, regardless of blood ties to fiends."

Javeen nodded. Calling them fiends seemed a bit much, but they did reject everything important to the Qunari, so it was easy to see why he would feel so strongly about it. But still, she could see why people would reject it too. She thought of Ketojan, even if in the end he did not reject the Qun. Best not to say anything about that to the damned Arishok, however.

They finished their tea in silence, though it was not awkward at all. The compound continued on its business like nothing had happened. She wasn't exactly surprised by this, what else did the Qunari have here other than order? She followed suit, returning to her wheel.

* * *

Even after a few days, Joanna still did not wake. No sign of Aveline. Now she was definitely getting worried about what Kirkwall was up to. She watched the healer press his hand against Joanna's forehead, getting a read on her temperature. He was extra concerned over her well-being, constantly checking her over even as he examined Javeen. He must have been worried that she'd die of starvation instead of succumbing to her injuries.

Camlen was present this time, as he had injured his hand during practice. He eyed the young noble while he sat beside Javeen, shaking his head. "Never seen the healer that concerned over a non-Qunari," he said quietly, "weird."

"He's treated other non-Qunari's?" Javeen asked.

"Well, yeah, uh, you," Camlen shrugged, "and...okay, I guess that's it."

"Her injuries are one of the worst here," Javeen pointed out, "it's not that weird."

"Let's just say I hope she's grateful for all the healer's done for her," Camlen huffed, closing his eyes.

"You've got a problem with her too?"

Camlen pointed to his ears. "I've got a special reason to be wary of noble-girl over there."

That was a fair point. Maker knows the alienage elves had a special place in their hearts for the nobility around...anywhere. And that place in their heart belonged to every negative emotion there was.

"Besides," Camlen continued, "I- oh..."

Javeen blinked at him, and turned to figure out what he was staring at. Her eyes widened when she saw Joanna's face scrunch and the one eye she had slowly open. Javeen was amazed when her body shot up, the healer needing to use a lot of strength to keep her from bolting. Javeen forgot that she wasn't supposed to move quickly, and ran to help the healer calm her. "Joanna," Javeen said loudly, "you need to stop. Calm down!"

At the sound of her name, Joanna stopped struggling, looking at the woman that was holding her. "S-serah Hawke...?"

"Yes, it's me. Just relax."

"W-where am I," she asked desperately, then noticed Javeen wasn't the only one holding her down. She looked at the healer and gasped. "It's you..."

"Yes," the healer nodded, a small smile on his face, "you must stay still. You are injured extensively."

"I...I," she began, a shaky hand moving towards the bandage that covered half her face. Her face grew more horrified the closer her hand got. She looked at Javeen with a wide, terrified eye. "Does my mother know I'm here?"

Javeen blinked, exchanging a look with the healer. If she didn't calm down, she might hurt herself. "I'm not sure. Why?"

Her face grew haunted, her nails digging into the bandage. "Because she pushed me."

That was the single worst thing she could have said.


	6. Her Story

_Something is wrong._

 _Joanna Linett peered towards the distant shore, wondering where they were going. Mother was happily relaxing on the deck, a lounge chair installed on their personal ship, fanning herself even though the wind should have been enough to keep her cool. Her usual bodyguards stood ever vigilant; why she needed so many Joanna couldn't guess. Elven servants served her fruit. They had offered her some as well, but Joanna refused them. Something felt wrong._

 _Mother said she wanted a 'girl trip,' just the two of them. A fun little escapade that would help Joanna enjoy being a part of the family again, she said. There wasn't a good reason to refuse her, right?_

 _As soon as Joanna stepped onto the sand of their destination, a chill ran up her spine. Why did her mother bring her here? Her bodyguards followed solemnly behind them, there was nowhere to run. This was because she tried to take her money and go. It had to be, it had to be._

 _She wanted it to just be paranoia, oh how she wished._

 _They ascended a large hill overlooking a beautiful horizon, ocean surrounding them with a perfect sunrise and clouds decorated with orange and pink. Below them there seemed to be an encampment of some sort, though it was empty. It was silent and still._

 _Even as she felt a hand behind her, and her feet was lifted off the ground, there was no sound. No scream. Not from her, not from mother. She fell in total silence._

 _She only made a sound when she reached the bottom. A disgusting crack in her arm made her howl. Grasping her arm only made the pain worse. She tried to sit up quickly, fighting the blackening corners of her eyes. She could not faint now._

 _Her shoulders jumped when she saw movement all around her. Tall, horned men surrounded her, eyes cold and holding spears and bows. And then...and then._

 _She managed to throw herself into the water when they almost had her. There was nothing in her except the instinct to run, even as blood ran down her body and face. When her attackers could not find her, she dragged herself onto the sand, pulling her heavy body with the only arm she could use._

 _She couldn't fight her mind anymore. She looked up for what she assumed would be the last time as she felt her brain shut down. But there was yet another horned figure before her. Panic did not blossom in her heart. This one was different than the ones from before. There was a kindness in his eyes that clung to her, even if he looked like them. A new strength swelled in her, and she barely managed to stand. She walked forward, at first one step, then two more. She reached to him, pleading._

 _"Please...please help me..."_

 _She saw him reach for her before she faded to black._

In the present, Javeen Hawke gripped her arms tightly. She willed herself not to explode with anger, as she would surely pass out from the venom if she let herself. Lacrissa Linett had been on her shit list before this...but now she was at the top, right under Sister Petrice. There was no excuse for such a horrible act, especially to family. What sort of bullshit reasoning could that fucking woman have?

"Do you...know why she did this?" Javeen asked, "not that it really matters."

Joanna glanced at her with her one eye. "I-I can think of a few. I'm a bastard. My father left me...a lot of money in his will. And I took that money to...to run away."

Ah. Bastards in nobility were never happy stories. Especially when the wrong parent passed away. This was clearly a family secret, as this was the first time Javeen had ever heard such a thing. Her mother would have mentioned it, else wise. "And go where?"

"I-I don't know," Joanna sighed, "I just couldn't stay in that place anymore."

"There is no question you will stay here for now," the healer said, "you are in no condition to move anywhere."

"Is it really okay for me to stay here?" Joanna asked, "I mean, I'm not-"

"You are in no condition to move anywhere," the healer repeated firmly, "so you will stay and rest."

Joanna blinked at him, then nodded slowly. "There...really isn't anywhere else I could go. Thank you, um...may I ask your name?"

"I am a healer, in your language," he replied, his familiar smile returning, "that is what you call me."

"Healer," she smiled, "then I guess I'm not the first life you've saved."

Camlen, who had been listening very quietly, coughed once. "Well. I'm the least hurt out of all of us, so...you don't need to divert your attention to me at all." He got up quickly. "See you around, Hawke."

"Hold, viddathari," the healer said, "your injury must be treated."

"Ah, but does it? It doesn't hurt at all."

The healer moved over towards him, frowning. "Don't be foolish."

The two injured women watched the healer deal with an increasingly embarrassed Camlen, until Joanna looked over at Javeen closer. "Maker," she breathed, "what on Thedas happened to you? If-if you want to say."

Javeen shrugged. "The result of Orlesian nobility and poison. And some bandits who got lucky."

"You've been poisoned?" Joanna asked, shocked. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Of course," she replied, massaging a tight muscle in her arm. "It takes much more than this to kill me."

Joanna chuckled nervously. "I've always heard about...about stuff you've done. I guess I believe them now."

"I have done 'stuff,' yes," Javeen deadpanned, then sighed. "And I'm sure I will do plenty more."

* * *

Understandably, Joanna wasn't up for much more conversation, amazing that she was at all, and fell into an exhausted sleep. Javeen found Camlen off by himself, fiddling with the bandage wrapped around his hand. He didn't notice her as she drew close, lost in thought. She softly kicked at his ankle, making him jump and stumble.

She stared back at him when he glared. "Always be on your guard, kid. Basic warrior rule."

"Better not let the Arishok hear you say that," Camlen warned, regaining his posture, "else he won't just be pissed at you this time."

Javeen scoffed. "Yeah, yeah. You were acting strange back there. Why?"

Camlen looked away, a blush reddening his cheeks. "It-it's stupid."

"I listen to stupid things all the time. Try me."

He paused for a long moment, then sighed. "Alienage elves really hate nobles. Maybe there's some that don't, but I've never met any. They have everything we-, er, _they_ don't: money, security, a guaranteed future. So...I just-"

Javeen said nothing, letting him finish. Not even she would interrupt something like this.

"We just don't like thinking noble life can bring their own suffering, just the suffering of others. So hearing her story, how messed up it is...I don't know. It felt...weird. Wrong. But I'm Qunari, so it shouldn't matter."

"How long have you been Qunari?" Javeen asked.

"Six...six months," he replied, not sure where she was going with that.

"Then give yourself a break," she said firmly, "you're not going to learn how to be one in short time. The Qun is complex, the Arishok would be the first to admit that. Hell, he told me that three years ago, many, many times."

Camlen wanted to speak but she kept going. "And yeah, Joanna's story feels wrong. It's fucked up. That doesn't make you stupid for feeling it. I'm not about to tell an elf how he has to feel about a noble he doesn't know. And you can trust me on this one, being okay with one or two nobles doesn't mean you're okay with all of them. You can still hate them all you want."

"Well, I-"

"Besides, she isn't a noble anymore, not after her mother tried to kill her. Doesn't seem to want to be one anyway. So, be an adult and use your words. Talk to her, if you want to stop feeling weird about it."

"Hawke," Camlen said loudly, and she looked at him. "...thanks. You're right, this time."

"When am I not?" Javeen smirked.

"I dunno, not telling people you were gravely hurt seemed pretty boneheaded."

She shrugged. When the glove fit...

Suddenly, an ashaad appeared before them, staring at Javeen exclusively. "You are needed at the gates."

Javeen felt a twinge of pride that she understood what the ashaad said. "I will follow," she replied in Qunlat, and nodded a goodbye at Camlen. She followed the ashaad, her thoughts confirmed when she saw who was standing before the Arishok's dais. It took her long enough. Aveline looked around the compound with a serious look on her face; uneasy, but not showing weakness. It was good to see her like this, her usual strength. The last time Javeen spoke to her she was a nervous mess thanks to Donnic. At least that ended well for her.

The Arishok eyed Javeen with a side glance, his mouth rested against folded hands. He looked none-to-pleased that he was undoubtedly being questioned by those he deemed unworthy. Though he was still sitting, therefore Aveline was doing a good job keeping things civil. Now it was her own turn.

"Hawke," Aveline smiled, relieved to see a familiar face, "you look well."

"I am," Javeen said bluntly, "what's going on?"

"Good to know your charm hasn't changed one bit being here," the guard captain said sarcastically, shaking her head. "I'm sure you know what this is about."

"Pretty much, "Javeen nodded, "so I'll make it brief: no, the girl is not being held against her will, however she is very injured. The Qunari are healing her. Her mother attempted to murder her. End of story."

"Wh-" That was not what Aveline expected. She rubbed her temple. "The girl told you this herself?"

"Yes."

"If that's the case, can I speak to her? I'd like to hear it myself."

Javeen's eyes narrowed. "She's not conscious. And she's in no condition to move anywhere."

Aveline sighed. "Hawke," she began, sounding tired, "you realize it was her mother who sent me in the first place? In order to...'rescue' her?"

The corner of Javeen's mouth twitched. So, Joanna's mother did know she was here. If Joanna found out...fear was a powerful motivator, and it could end her if she was pushed too far. And that...that was something she couldn't let happen. She just met Joanna for real this time and she already cared a lot for her well being. The words of an asshole, of a certain Seneshal, flooded her head.

I feel sorry for your companions. Such a cold leader they follow.

Javeen gritted her teeth.

"Then the woman fed you some high class bullshit," Javeen snarled. "You could at the very least investigate her."

"You're sure then," Aveline said slowly, "you're sure she is a suspect?"

"You doubt me?"

"Not you." She shook her head. "Just everyone else."

"Her mother tried to kill her," Javeen frowned. "End. Of. Story."

Aveline paused, staring hard at the face of her friend. Clearly, Aveline must be under a lot of pressure, from Lacrissa, from the Viscount, from that bastard Seneshal Bran, to bring back the girl in one piece. Why else would she hesitate?

"You back the Qunari, then?" Aveline asked carefully.

Javeen nodded. "I do."

"Then what is your reasoning, Arishok?" Aveline frowned, "why take in not only one, but two nobles into your compound? Three, if you count the Vicount's son who visits once in a while."

"Our reasoning," The Arishok said coldly, "is not your concern."

Aveline shot him a look that said damn right it was her concern, but she knew when she had to back down. She relented and nodded, folding her arms across her chest. "Fine. I will investigate Linett. Any leads besides the word of the girl?"

"The Wounded Coast," Javeen said, "go there, and then ask her why the hell she took her daughter there for a so-called vacation. Find evidence of Tal-Vashoth."

"Didn't we get rid of them three years ago?" Aveline asked.

"Clearly not. They must have left and then came back for whatever reason."

"Alright, that's a start," Aveline nodded. "If anything comes up, I will let you know." She turned to leave, but paused before continuing. She looked back at Hawke, her expression hard to read. Was she worried, or angry, or afraid of Javeen or her situation, or maybe a combination of all three? She sighed. "It was good to see you again."

"Thanks," was all that Javeen could manage. Aveline was used to this, so she nodded and went on her way.

The Arishok grunted angrily as he rose. "So, the bas was brought to us by the act of a senseless murderer. I do not understand the point of this action."

"I don't either," Javeen said through her teeth, "but I do know that I will not stand for it happening again."

"Then you have some wisdom after all."

Javeen snorted, flashing a quick grin. "I have plenty of wisdom, thank you."

* * *

Javeen sat at her wheel quietly, not making any pottery and concentrating on something else. With Aveline on the case, she felt much better about it overall, however there was still a lingering discomfort. The fact that that mob had the balls to show up in front of the compound at all still baffled her, and if they showed up again, who knew what would happen. She'd prevent the slaughter of the Qunari with everything she had, but...there were still so many unknowns.

She stared at the unmoving wheel, finding she had no motivation to make any pottery today. With the situation in such an unknown, Javeen would only really feel better with a bow on her back and several knives at her hips. She turned towards the unfinished bow still wrapped in white, waiting to be held. Perhaps it was time to graduate to something else. Something she will need in the future.

She unwrapped the bow made of fine darkwood, thinking back to her childhood teacher who taught her archery. She was a Chasind woman who was trading with Lothering at the time, a wild look about her and face covered in tattoos. She had caught Javeen and her father training, Malcolm attempting to teach Javeen to shoot a simple bow. He had no talent for such a thing, and it was going poorly. But he wanted her to have another skill besides basic daggers, and Javeen agreed. The Chasind woman, named Arzhela, only laughed mockingly.

"You want your daughter to die in battle?" she sneered, "then continue as you are."

Malcolm, whom Javeen inherited almost all her physical features from, glanced at his daughter, then back to the woman. "I will pay you what I can to teach her."

From then, Arzhela saw Javeen each week, teaching her not just archery but daggers as well, a gruelling training that left callouses on her hands and more muscles in her arms. Sixteen months Arzhela would come back and forth from her family to the Hawkes, until she had to move on for good. Before she left, however, she gave Javeen a memento of the Chasind. A facial tattoo of the Chasind decorative version of a soaring hawk.

Javeen never saw her again.

She took a chisel and some sandpaper, starting. Long strands of curled wood fell around her as she worked, she was much more delicate with this than her pottery.

After a while, she noticed a presence watching her. Kaaras of all people was standing far enough to not get in the way, looking curious about the bow. He was usually quiet around her, the Mashaar was correct in saying he was very polite. It was just that they only saw each other in the morning and evening, and he didn't seem like much of a talker. Neither was she.

But she could be sometimes. "You need something?"

"No," he answered simply, "I was unaware you had the ability to construct a weapon."

"Multi-talented," Javeen replied, shaving off another string of wood.

"Does it have a name?" he asked as he went to her side.

Javeen blinked. "The bow?"

Kaaras nodded. "A weapon such as that, created for your hand by your hand, deserves a name fitting oneself. We Qunari name our weapons and tools, as they are extensions of ourselves."

"I hadn't thought about it," she replied, though the thought was appealing. Arzhela did teach her to care for each weapon she made and found, and giving her masterpiece a name was fitting. She always approved of Varric holding his Bianca so dear, so why not her? "What about you? You have a sword, even though you're the navigator."

"I am of the antaam, thus we all carry a blade," he said, "I call my sword 'one who cuts through,' and my telescope 'one who sees beyond.'"

"Long," Javeen commented, "and literal."

"I have been told such by kadan," he smiled. "But I prefer names that way."

"I assume their true names are in Qunlat."

"Of course."

"...but you want me to find the translation on my own."

"Yes," he nodded, then paused. He looked her over, following the lines of the tattoo on her face, the decorative wings that spread across her cheeks. "...bird of prey."

She blinked at him again. What was he talking about? Then it hit her. A hawk was a bird of prey. His version of her name. "Clever." She paused. "I'm not as apt at naming than you."

"Kaaras is acceptable," he chuckled.

The two spent the rest of the afternoon chatting away, while Javeen worked on the bow she would later name Arzhela.

And while Joanna slept, dreaming of broken arms and torn up faces, Lacrissa Linett sent a letter to the Antivan Crows.


	7. The Extent of Injury

Javeen woke up like she normally did. Pain shooting throughout her body in waves, reminding her of every mistake she had made recently. The failed dodge of the wyvern's claw across her chest. The splatter of green venom that wormed its way into her system. The first arrow piercing her back, lodging itself close enough to a rib to break it. The second arrow that had gone right through her shoulder. Each a reminder of how much more she had to go before she was the fighter she needed to be. One that her loved ones could rely on and trust completely.

One that wouldn't fail Bethany like Carver was.

She woke up much earlier now, so that she could join the Arishok in meditation. The Arishok was onto something about meditation, it was remarkably calming and peaceful. Even her pains seemed to subside slightly as she sat there cross legged, eyes closed and concentrating on her breathing. She wished she knew how to do this properly before, it definitely would have helped her all those times Kirkwall proved...aggravating.

Though that was a light word for it.

Today, however, seemed to be a bad pain day. As she breathed in, her broken rib throbbed at an increasingly more painful pace. Her breaths became shorter and harder to complete. The Arishok noticed.

"Your breathing is irregular," he commented, opening an eye.

"I'm-" she began, but took a breath too quickly, and spun into a coughing fit. It lasted for a good thirty seconds before calming, the pain in her rib flaring. "-fine."

The Arishok's eyes narrowed. "I do not understand the fascination of lying in your society. Even when it causes one more pain."

"I'm _fine_ ," she insisted, even as her breaths were still strained. She didn't want him to see her weak like this.

"And where is that wisdom you claim to have," the Arishok said harshly, "there is no purpose in denying it."

A flash of...something ran across her face. It wasn't anger, lest she feel a wave of dizziness. But she didn't. She felt...shame? Sadness? Guilt? She had no idea what this was. But it was painful. Just as painful as the sharpness in her back, her shoulder, her chest. She needed...for him not to see this. She stood up slowly, gritting her teeth against the pain, forcing herself to stand up straight.

"If I can stand, then I am alright," she said quickly, and then descended the stairs, using every bit of willpower not to hold her side as she did.

She could almost hear the disappointment from the Arishok. And what did disappointment sound like? It sounded like empty, desperate footsteps that echoed through a quiet morning, and the silence of a presence that you wanted nothing more than its respect. She hobbled behind a pillar, leaning against it as she cradled her side with one hand.

"Damn it," she hissed, " _damn it._ "

She didn't move until some of the pain went away.

When she entered the healer's tent, he was already attending to Joanna, replacing bandages. He turned his head at the sound at the entrance. "You are early."

"Hmn," Javeen grumbled, sitting at her usual spot.

The healer raised his brow at her, but he caught that something was wrong. And with her diagnosis and the way that it was progressing, he could guess that it was a flare of pain that was natural with injuries like hers. Especially since he was trying to wean her off numbing potions so she wouldn't develop a dependance on them.

"There is a tea," he began, turning his attention back to Joanna, "that assists with managing pain. However, it will cause drowsiness and you will not be able to work. You will recall I suggested this remedy before, when you first came here. You refused."

"Because feeling drowsy all day would annoy me," Javeen said, "but...I'll take it today."

"Very well. I will prepare it."

He finished changing Joanna's bandages before moving into his curtained off area for preparing herbs and medicines. Javeen reclined into the raised cot, letting out a sigh. Many of the qunari still staying in the tent were asleep, their snores almost lulling her into sleep as she closed her eyes. Then Joanna spoke up.

"Are you okay?"

Javeen frowned. "Yes, I'm fine."

Joanna paused for a moment. "I...think that isn't true," she said slowly, "but...I get it. I used to lie about being hurt to my mom, too. Didn't want to burden her more."

Javeen's eyes widened, glancing in the direction of the battered girl, but not looking at her. "That's not...you were never a burden to your mother. And if she ever said that, she's wrong."

"I guess," Joanna said. Javeen finally turned her head to look at the seventeen year old. Maker, she looked frail. "The healer said...I'm probably going to lose my eye."

Javeen didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," was all she could manage.

"There's a slim chance...that it can be healed," Joanna smiled desperately, though Javeen could tell she was on the verge of tears, "but if it doesn't, what am I going to do?"

"What you want."

"I don't know what I want," she sniffed. She quickly wiped away a tear falling from her good eye. "When I tried to take my will money, I had no plan for after. That's why I was caught. I don't know what I'm doing."

"You have the time to figure it out," Javeen said, unsure if that was helpful. "So long as you're in these walls, you're safe."

Joanna's mouth thinned. "I am extremely grateful that I'm here, but...I cannot expect the qunari to protect me if...if something happens. There's no reason for them to care for my safety."

"So long as you're my patient," the healer's voice called from his room, listening to every word, "you will be under my protection."

He came out from behind his curtain, holding a steaming cup of tea for Javeen. Her jaw was hard as she took the cup, gulping it down quickly and wincing at the heat running down her throat. It didn't taste great, it was bitter and more akin to drinking grass, but she emptied the cup nonetheless. She let out a long breath when she was finished.

The healer was beside Joanna again, popping the cork off of a bottle of numbing salve with his thumb. Javeen watched this as she waited for the tea's job to start, noting just how terrified Joanna must have been. She was truly alone now, even with the support of the healer. And that support could only extend to the point until she recovered, even if the healer wanted to keep her safe even after. She knew the Arishok literally couldn't support her, he had a whole damn compound to be concerned about and Joanna was not a part of it. But Javeen was, even if the Arishok would not say it out loud. A debt was binding.

Javeen's head lolled to the side as the tea's effects took place. Her mind clouded, and couldn't hear the words she was saying. "I'll protect you," she muttered, but loud enough for the two to still hear her. "I'll protect the compound, and Kirkwall. Everyone. And...m-myself..."

The healer turned to look at her. "Protecting the compound is unnece-ah." Javeen was fast asleep, her breathing even and peaceful. The healer grinned.

Joanna placed a hand on her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Do you think she was serious?"

He chuckled. "She does not say anything she does not mean."

* * *

When Javeen regained consciousness, the weather was much warmer and sunlight lit up the tent. She was still groggy and tired from the effects of the tea, but she could hear her surroundings. By the heat, it must have been around late afternoon, the hunger in her belly said she had skipped breakfast for sure. There was also a nice smell, of those meat buns the Mashaar was so apt at making. It was probably her lunch waiting for her. She heard the usual quiet noises of the qunari focusing on recovering, and the happy sounds of two voices; Joanna and Camlen. She cracked an eye open, seeing the two chatting away while the healer attended to other qunari.

It was nice when someone listened to her advice.

As she raised upwards, Camlen flashed a grin. "Ah. See? Told you she'd wake up soon."

Joanna beamed. "Hawke! Are you feeling better?"

Javeen avoided that question. "I see you two kids are getting along."

"I'm not a kid," Camlen frowned, glancing at the food beside her bedroll. He grabbed one of the buns, smiling mischievously. "Poor Hawke. You look so tired. Maybe I should help out and feed you."

Javeen exhibited what her companions would call a death glare. "Keep that away."

"Aw, don't be shy," he cooed, moving the bun in a circular motion as he drew closer. Unbeknownst to him, that was when the Arishok entered the tent, his face unchanging from his usual expression as he watched.

Javeen caught Camlen's face in one hand just before he could shove the bun into her mouth, using little of her strength to push the annoying elf away. He stumbled back a few steps, his mouth agape. "By the flames, how the hell are you so-"

"I am much stronger than you," Javeen said cooly, her face deadpanned. "Shanedan, Arishok."

Camlen whirled around quickly, placing the bun back onto the plate as fast as he could while showing the Arishok his respect. It was awfully clumsy, the tips of his ears red.

"Shanedan," he replied, his voice tinged with the tiniest bit of amusement. He probably expected such displays of foolishness from newly converted viddathari, the lesson already learned from the heat radiating from Camlen's cheeks. He turned to only regard the healer after, asking about the condition of his soldiers.

When his question was satisfied, he turned to leave, though he took the opportunity to cast a golden eye on Joanna. His expression was mostly unreadable, but it wasn't what one would call friendly. Joanna seemed to shrink two inches, looking away from his eyes and to the floor. The Arishok made a short noise in his throat, and walked out of the tent.

Joanna took a deep gasp, apparently having held her breath in the Arishok's presence.

"Something wrong?" Camlen asked with a hint of humour. He recovered quick when he wasn't the point of embarrassment.

"I-I," Joanna stuttered, "I'm sorry, I just...I find him a bit...scary. And he clearly doesn't want me here, so..."

"Sure, to the second point," Camlen shrugged, "but not so much on the first point."

Joanna pursed her lips at him. "As if you were not frightened the first time you met him!"

"Nope."

"That is not truthful, viddathari," the healer smiled.

As Camlen began to interject, Joanna turned to Javeen. "What about you, serah? Are you scared of the Arishok? Even a little? You're not Qunari."

One burst of quick laughter escaped Javeen's mouth, then settled back into her default deadpan. "No."

The two qunari grinned at that, but Joanna looked wide eyed and confused. "Really? Not one bit?"

"I do not scare easily," Javeen said simply.

"Then have you _never_ been scared?" It was less a question, and more of a demand that reeked of desperation and validation.

Javeen paused. A lump formed in her throat as her eyes grew to a more strained and downcast look. She thought of thunderous footsteps of a giant. Darkspawn slashed through her sight, keeping her away from where she should have been, where she needed to be. A horned creature, not a qunari, but a monstrous ogre, taking her little brother in its giant fists and ending his short life with no care in the world that he deserved better, deserved to live until he was one hundred. She saw the light ebb out of his eyes, as his twin watched in horror, as their mother's heart spilt in half.

That was when Javeen first knew the true meaning of fear.

"I have," she said, staring ahead and not looking at any of them. "When I lost my brother to the Blight. I failed to protect him."

A silence permeated around them, the grins of the qunari gone as they regarded her. That was the first time they saw Javeen so small, and not in that humorous teasing about her height. They saw Hawke, but she wasn't _Hawke_ in this moment, she was a just a person. Who lost someone she could never forgive herself for.

The healer watched her carefully, eyeing the lines on her face and the bags under her eyes. Without a word, he took one of the meat buns from the plate and held it in front of her. "Eat," he ordered, though not unkindly. He knew she did not want sympathy. Just a push...towards a better state.

She took the bun and tore a chunk off with her teeth.

Nothing else was said after, and eventually Camlen was shooed out of the tent as his checkup was complete. The healer returned to his duties attending the other qunari, but still within earshot. While Javeen finished her meal, the down-trodden Joanna sheepishly spoke up once more. "I'm sorry, Hawke. For making you relive that."

Javeen shook her head. "I relive it everyday. Whether people deign to remind me of it or not."

"How is it that you function, if you...you-" Joanna began, then stopped herself. "I'm afraid all the time. Not just because of what happened. Even before then. How do I make it _stop_?"

"You have to stop caring about what strangers think of you, for starters," Javeen said, blunt in her tone, but not cruel. "And then, you have to...accept the fact that you cannot change the past. You make the effort it takes to keep yourself afloat. None of which are easy feats."

"I-I see," she replied, disappointed.

Javeen sighed. "Joanna, the way I see it, the world should be terrified of _you_. You survived an attack by giant, skillful people who were desperately trying to kill you, people that which Qunari have trouble hunting. You alone, with no weapons, no backup, no allies, survived multiple Tal-Vashoth, even when injured. I'd hazard a guess not many people have been able to do the same. Hell, maybe I couldn't even do that. You are not as weak as you think you are."

A blush crept up Joanna's neck, spreading across her face as her eyes grew wide. The brown colour of her skin deepened, with bits of red peaking at the edge of her cheeks, and she looked away. Had she never received a compliment before?

"T-thank you. I- that is very kind of you to say."

"Just a statement of fact," Javeen shrugged. She decided to test the waters of her injuries and stood up, noticing her legs were a bit shaky. The pain she felt before was mostly numbed, and after a few moments of standing, her legs ceased their shaking. She couldn't do any work today, as the healer had said, but that didn't mean she would stay in here all day.

And there was someone she should see again.

"Are you leaving?" Joanna asked, a touch of disappointment in her voice.

Javeen nodded. "That big guy I'm not afraid of whatsoever? I confused him with my penchant for hiding my fears. As you pointed out. I think he deserves some explanation."

"Oh," Joanna laughed. "Then you better go. Good luck."

"She has never relied on luck," the healer smiled.

"Damn right I haven't."

* * *

Being here this long, and the fact that Qunari kept to stern schedules, Javeen knew it would be a few hours before the Arishok returned to his tent. She spent that time doing the most productive things she could think of; most involving hygiene. When there was an hour left before the Arishok would make his way to his personal tent, intent on relaxing after a long day of planning, observing, and Maker knows what else. Javeen almost felt bad that she would disrupt his well deserved break. Almost.

She walked right into his tent, after finding an opportunity to do so away from prying eyes. She settled herself in the middle of his tent, sitting cross legged like she did this morning. Every morning. She had to catch up today. Maybe she concerned herself too much over how the Arishok saw her. With her other companions, she never really had to explain herself about much, they just...followed her for some reason. They would voice their concerns once in a while, sure, but they never left her. And thus, Javeen never felt the need to explain herself.

She shook her head. She was a hypocrite. She had just told Joanna she had to stop caring about what others thought about her, and here she was doing the exact opposite. Two voices nagged at the back of her head. One was of Seneshal Bran, toting his pompous words she had heard before; how he felt sorry for her companions to be led by someone so heartless. But then, the other voice was of mother's.

 _They stay because they love you. And you want to prove yourself to them because you love them._

Maybe she needed to follow that advice she had given Joanna before more closely.

So deep into her thoughts she was, that she almost didn't hear the Arishok enter the tent. Her eyes opened as she heard the heavy footsteps stop in front of her. Her neck strained as she looked up at him, annoyance decorating his eyes, but at least it was not anger she saw in them. "Why are you here." This was not a question.

She couldn't help but grin. "I don't think you will understand it."

His eyes narrowed. The words were similar to what he had said to her many times years ago. She felt some satisfaction that she could hurl that back at him after all this time. He made a short annoyed sound in his throat and moved past her to sit on his cushions. He wasn't telling her to leave, so that was a good sign.

She joined him, sitting on opposite ends to face him. "I get that I do things you don't understand. Sometimes, even I don't understand them myself. But I'll try to explain. I owe you that much."

He gave her a look that said _just start already_. And she did. "I have...a difficult time allowing people to see me hurt. Not strangers, they don't concern me one bit. But with people I care for...those that I respect. Damn, but I can't let them see weakness. That's why I acted the way I did this morning."

"I still do not understand the lie."

Javeen paused. She had to think of a way in which a Qunari would understand. Otherwise this would go nowhere. She thought of Tallis, and their conversation in jail. "Think of it as if I am charged with keeping a whole together. If I am seen as weak, the pieces of the whole do not trust me, and if there is no trust, we fall apart. The lie in a way keeps the whole together, keeping the weakness out of sight keeps the trust, and so the whole stays together as it should. I am not trying to protect myself, but the entire system."

The Arishok regarded her, leaning forward as he listened. "This I do understand. However, the execution is flawed."

She laughed. "I never claimed that it wasn't. It is flawed. Probably why I respect you. You are the ideal that keeps a whole together. I see it everyday here. This compound stays together, working in unison and certainty that is not threatened to collapse."

"Such is only achieved in the Qun," the Arishok said, his eyes gleaming as he stared at her. "You would know this certainty if you followed the Qun. You would not rely on falsehoods to continue your duty."

The intensity of his gaze made her realize this was more than a statement. This was an invitation. She tried to brush it off by laughing. "I would make a crappy Qunari."

"There is no such thing," the Arishok replied, still not taking his eyes off her.

"And I cannot abandon the family I have made here," she said firmly, "my duty is to them."

He leaned back, nodding slowly. "I understand this. A chosen family follows the teachings of the Qun." He regarded her again with those intense eyes. "But Kirkwall cannot contain your duty forever. It is questionable whether it does at all. You know this."

A moment of fear stabbed her stomach. She _did_ know. But she didn't want to admit it. The Arishok spoke from a place where he assumed that the city would self destruct eventually, and maybe he was not incorrect. But Javeen spoke from a place that knew one day Kirkwall would not be as it is, a place that needed her to stabilize it. Then she thought of her companions. Of Merrill. Kirkwall, no matter what, was not a waste. "Kirkwall needs me. Not even you would abandon something that needs you, even if it brought you suffering."

The Arishok exhaled loudly, returning to his normal, neutral face. "Perhaps."

"Don't worry," Javeen smirked, "when you return to Par Vollen, I'll visit one day. I'm dying to see the place where you all come from."

"You assume I would wish to see you."

"I am a delight."

The Arishok barked a laugh, louder than any she had heard from him before. It was a light-hearted insult, one between, dare she think it, friends? Perhaps, perhaps not. She had just rejected his offer to join the Qun. But then, he had not thrown her out of his tent. Half of Kirkwall wanted to throw her out of the city, and she was an ally to it. She doubted she would get a straight answer from him if she asked if they were friends or not. Did it need to be said?

She couldn't help but chuckle with him. Considering the Arishok as a friend was not something she could have ever predicted.


	8. The Girl from the Farm

A few weeks after Joanna was brought to the compound, the healer finally encouraged her to walk around, get some exercise, and get used to the place where she would be staying for a while.

She nervously peeked her head out of the tent flap, watching qunari move to and fro to their business, staring back at the strange girl half hiding in the tent. Javeen shook her head a little and pulled the flap open. She had volunteered to look after Joanna as she got her bearings, but in order to do that she had to leave the tent. Joanna stared wide eyed at the sudden movement, and Javeen motioned her head to step out.

"Nothing here will go out of its way to harm you."

"Right," Joanna gulped, "stop caring about what strangers think of you. Right."

She took two tiny steps forward, just barely outside the tent. They were small because she was half nervous, and half struggling to move at all due to her injuries. The healer had advised to not push it, so Javeen would walk her pace. Although, her own pace was not that much faster than Joanna's.

"So. Where to first?"

"Um," Joanna smiled nervously, "I'm not sure...I suppose the important stops first?"

Important...Javeen nodded. "Luckily this place is laid out rather straightforward. Follow me."

Javeen planned to lead her to the baths, arguably the most important place for Joanna to know about at the moment. But there were many stops along the way that she could point out. The area where viddathari trained. The quartermaster, the weapon maker, where Javeen worked. The arena where a bout was taking place. Joanna gasped quietly as she watched a large qunari grab his opponent and force him onto the ground, along with the inevitable surrender of the grappled man. The victor helped the defeated onto his feet, pressing foreheads together in respect. That was how they showed it in battle.

As they passed the arena, Joanna grew quiet. Javeen glanced at her, seeing her eyes on the ground and looking generally unhappy. "What's wrong?"

Joanna's shoulders tensed up, and sighed. "These are all important places, for Qunari and for you...but not me. I don't know anything about weapons or-or fighting, or the things you make. I really don't belong here, do I?"

"You don't need to know about those things," Javeen said, "I'll tell you what the Arishok told me when I first came here: your only purpose here is to heal. Don't worry so much about belonging, concentrate on getting better and figuring out what to do next."

"I- I suppose," Joanna said, "how did you end up with your wheel, then? If the Arishok said that."

"It's an integral part of my healing. In having it I don't go insane and wreck things."

Joanna giggled as they approached the baths, and she retreated her smile again. "I-it's public?"

Javeen nodded, making Joanna grimace. "Qunari don't care about nudity when bathing," Javeen said.

"I-I do," Joanna stuttered, "and the converts."

Javeen paused at this, remembering that indeed, the converts were raised in these lands and still held the standards of society of Kirkwall. They probably would for a long time. She patted Joanna's shoulder. "I won't force you," she said, "I'll keep an eye out for times where there are none, or at the very least a small few of the converts."

"As will I," a familiar voice said from inside the tent, Camlen pushing the flap open and a smile on his face. His hair was damp and combed back to keep it out of his eyes. "I know the schedules better than you do. In fact, when I go there isn't a whole lot of people, most of the time."

Joanna tilted her head. "Camlen, you're a convert."

"With zero interest in women," he replied, making an 'o' shape with his index finger and thumb. "So you'd never have to worry about me ogling you. Promise!"

"Oh," Joanna said, her eyes wide. "Then...thank you. Really."

"Hey, it's no problem. I get it." He shrugged. "Things are very different here. It takes time to adjust."

Javeen gave him a smug look for repeating something she told him, and he chose to ignore it. Joanna decided she would skip the baths for now, so the two now joined by Camlen went towards the cooking area to show her the last stop. At this time, the Mashaar was finishing up lunch and about to start handing it out.

Kaaras, having finished his duties with the Arishok, was around the area to perhaps get his mate to take a break as he was wont to do. He noticed the three of them hovering, nodding towards them.

"Kaaras," Javeen said, "come to use your charm on the Mashaar?"

"'Charm' is unnecessary," Kaaras replied, then paused for a moment. "...most of the time."

"This is Kaaras," Javeen said to Joanna, "I currently sleep in his tent, along with the cook."

Joanna stared up at Kaaras with big eyes and nodded nervously towards him. "Um, hello. Pleased to meet you, sir."

"You are the bas the healer brought in," he commented. In a moment that seemed to slow down everything, Kaaras bent his knee, letting his massive kossith body sink down to Joanna's level. He stayed at eye level, not breaking his look at her, making her blush and open her mouth as if to question what he was doing. He then extended his hand, twice the size of hers and with much longer nails. "As I understand it, you greet strangers with a...handshake?"

Completely flustered, Joanna blurted out a few incoherent sounds while also extending a shaky hand, which Kaaras took and shook twice. Camlen pressed his lips together to keep a laugh from escaping them, while Javeen let a half smile form on her face. When the handshake finished, Joanna could finally form words. "I, ah, thank you? I mean, yes, thank you. I am very pleased to meet you!"

Kaaras nodded, unfazed by the squeakiness of her voice. "As you said."

"I believe you are scaring her, kadan."

They turned to the cool eyes of the Mashaar, holding a platter of food and watching this all unfold. Kaaras stood back up, his brow furrowing slightly. "That was not my intention. I assumed she would react better if I was at her height, and used a greeting familiar to her."

"Oh, no, no, I'm not...I'm not scared," Joanna said quickly, waving her arms around, "I was just surprised, that's all!"

"I see," the Mashaar said, turning towards the arena and planning to make her way towards it. Kaaras spoke before she could leave.

"Once that is delivered, kadan, you must rest."

She sighed. "Yes, Kaaras, I know. I will be back." And off she went.

"Does she do that often?" Javeen asked.

Kaaras nodded. "She is determined to fulfil her role to the extent of her being. Sometimes, she forgets that there are limits to her being. I do not fault her for that. Converts, even those that have been Qunari as long as her, often feel the need to prove they can push those limits. But I do not wish to see her hurt."

Javeen felt a twinge of familiarity in this, and it was not pleasant. How many times had Javeen pushed those limits and felt the backlash of it? But she understood where the Mashaar came from, why she did it. She glanced at Camlen, who was looking at the ground and flexing his injured hand. He knew what it was like too, probably more so than her.

Hell, Joanna probably knew a thing or two about it as well.

Joanna smiled up at Kaaras. "The M-mashaar." She was saying the title slowly, making sure she was pronouncing it correctly. "Are you good friends with her?"

"She is my mate, yes."

Joanna's eyebrows shot up, and instead of acting surprised or disgusted as some other non-Qunari might, she beamed at him. "How did you two meet?"

"Ah. If you are curious..." Kaaras glanced behind him, where a determined Mashaar had returned and was planning to hand out more food, and reached an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. The Mashaar yelped and her cheeks reddened, but she did not pull away. Kaaras smiled, keeping his arm around her.

It wasn't fair but...Javeen thought it was oddly affectionate. An unfair judgement on her part. Why was it odd to see such care between the two? They were, by all meanings of the word, partners. There was still a part of her that felt surprise when Qunari were...loving. She had to stop that assumption on her part.

"How did we meet, kadan?"

"Wh-" the Mashaar started, looking at him and then the group around her, all leaning forward and waiting. She sighed. "You don't want to tell it?"

"I am interested in your perspective."

"Right. Fine then." She turned to the three, tilting her head. "Listen well, imekari."

Joanna was about ask what imekari meant, the Qunlat word for children, but the Mashaar started before she could.

* * *

 _In three days, he had not returned._

 _Vaneya often wondered when her father left on these "trips" he was trying to prove that she could not take care of the farm properly, which she couldn't. If the crops failed because he was not there to tend to them, it was his own fault, not hers. She told herself this, over and over as the days passed with him still gone._

 _It was not her fault, but his._

 _She sighed as she gathered a large bucket to take some water to the cows, the only farm work she could do properly. She carried the bucket with some difficulty, slow and hitting her side with the metal, wincing as the sunlight beat down on her. The weather had been unbearably hot the last few days, just in time for when he left her alone. When she had to spend most of her time outside. The burns on her shoulders and chest stung._

 _She was panting by the time she reached the river. She put the large bucket on the ground, feeling a bit dizzy from the heat. She took a moment to dip her hands in the lake, sighing at the wonderful, cold temperature. Wouldn't it be something if she stripped down to nothing and jumped into the cool river? There was no one around. Who cared about what father thought when he wasn't around._

 _Just as she started to begin to dunk her head into the tempting water, something caught in the corner of her eye. There was something-someone- lying on the ground. She almost yelped, quickly pulling her dress over her tensed shoulders and hissing in pain. The figure wasn't moving. She rushed over to their side, then stopped when she saw the horns._

 _He was unconscious and hurt, but Vaneya could only stare at the black horns coming out of his skull. Father had warned her about the Qunari. "They are big beasts," he said one day, "you wouldn't stand a chance if they wanted to take you."_

 _Beasts. The one before her was breathing shallow, blood flowing down his temple. Without the blood, it simply looked like he was asleep. But...if left alone, he would probably die. One of their cows died once from a head injury, and they had treated it. She was all he had in this moment._

 _And she couldn't abandon him._

 _She tried to flip him onto his back, unsuccessfully the first time. She gritted her teeth and dug her heels into the dirt until the qunari flipped over, head lolling to the side. She gripped her hands into his armpits and tried pulling him with her, but he would not budge. She didn't have enough body strength to pull him up and to the house. After a few minutes of feet slipping in the same place, she gave up. How would she get him out of here? What had the strength to carry him?_

 _She was running to the pen faster than she ever had before._

 _The cow didn't appreciate the manic sixteen year old pulling at her harness, but with the persuasion of some treats, Vaneya managed to coax the cow down to the stream. She got the cow to lower itself to make it easier to get the qunari up on its back. It took a lot of time and effort to barely get him on the cow, dangling on each side of the animal, laying on his stomach._

 _Just before she was about the pull the cow towards home, she noticed a glint of metal near the river. Upon closer inspection, it was a sword. She gasped, making tight fists with her hands as she stared at the weapon. It had to be his. Why was he here, hurt, with a weapon? What hurt him? How did he even get here? She looked back at him, then back to the sword. The longer she stood here dumfounded, the lower chance he had of survival. Maybe she should leave it. Throw it in the river. Let it wash away._

 _But her practicality reared its head. What if he attacked her when he regained consciousness? Her father had warned her. They were beasts. Beasts bit the hands that fed them. If she was armed...had a weapon...maybe she stood a better chance if that happened. She had no idea how to use one properly. But, if she stabbed him before he broke her neck, then that was that._

 _She picked up the sword, heavy though it was._

 _She lead the cow back home, staring at the door and wondering how the heck she would squeeze both the cow and the man through. She had to shift the qunari to lay against the entirety of the cow's body, balancing his head on her horned head. They both have horns, she thought, amused. Though they were not very similar in shape._

 _She rushed into the house first to prepare a makeshift bed on the floor of the living area. She didn't think he would fit on the couch. Then she had to pull the fat cow through the front door, a task only accomplished by exhausted encouragement and lots and lots of bribes. When they finally made it to the living room, she carefully wrapped her arms through his armpits and around his shoulders and pulled him off the cow, making sure his feet hit the mattress she pulled out of her room. Her legs buckled under his weight, only keeping balance on her knees. It was difficult, but she held him tightly, lowering herself down until it was safe to let go of him. He was so big he took up the whole mattress. But he was safe. Sort of._

 _She grabbed a healing potion that father kept only for the cows. She'd explain to him that he wouldn't see much difference between the cows and the qunari. Just another animal that needs healing. She doesn't like the thought._

 _She poured it quickly onto the qunari's bleeding wound, then grabbed another potion and opened his mouth. She spooned the red liquid into his throat gently, like she would a newborn calf, so he wouldn't choke. She noted the slight sharpness of his teeth, but continued anyway. Then she rummaged through more medical supplies, getting an anti-inflammatory plant and chewing it. She placed the mushed up plant on his wound, grabbed a large white gauze sheet and wrapped bandages around it where the wound was. It looked...sloppy. But it would have to do._

 _Now it was merely a waiting game. She realized there was still a cow in her living room. She took a good half an hour getting the stupid thing out of the house and back into her pen. She rushed to the river and filled the bucket of water, completing the task she had started with. When that was done, she went back inside. He was still unconscious._

 _She sat on her legs beside him, looking him over. He wasn't all that much older than her, by the look of him. Eighteen at the most. His face was handsome, hair a lovely blonde-white. Long, too. Most men didn't have hair that long, but it suited him. He wore no shirt, and his torso was covered in red symbols painted on skin. Father said they were beasts, but he looked more like a man than anything._

 _Her eyes widened. Maker, what would father do when he saw this? What if the qunari was still like this when he returned? Would father try to kill him? Could she stop him?_

 _She looked at the sword she brought with her. Reaching for it, she held onto the hilt with both hands, lifting it up. She couldn't hold it straight, it was too heavy. With all those muscles, he must've been able to hold this with ease._

 _She turned back to look at him, and suddenly, he was up. Staring at her with wide, black and gold eyes. She froze, sword still in hand. His hand started searching around him, and his breathing became more and more panicked as whatever he was looking for was not found. He yelled something in a language she did not understand. He threw the blanket off of him and crawled over to her, repeating what he yelled before. Terrified, Vaneya pushed herself away, placing the sword in front of her as she trembled. Her palms were a pale white from holding the sword impossibly tight._

 _That's when he saw the hilt. On his hands and knees, still somehow towering over her, he saw it. And his relief was so imminent that her fear subsided. His breaths came out long and slow, his forehead touching her collarbone gently. He said something else in his language, then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. On her. She was pinned instantly._

 _She had to push his face away from the blade of his sword before it cut him. It took some struggling, with careful avoiding of his sharp horns, but she managed to get him back in bed. She placed the sword in his hand this time, however. With that display, she could tell that was what he was looking for, and that it was important to him. Her father's voice screamed at her in her mind, chastising her for giving the qunari his blade. But somehow, she trusted that he would not hurt her._

 _There was not much else she could do for him now, and she was getting hungry. Some stew would do them both good. She went into the kitchen and grabbed one of the hanging rabbits already skinned and prepped. She chopped it into small chunks, set it aside. Then she got a fire going, placing a large pot over it, pouring in already made chicken broth. She always had broths prepared beforehand._

 _Then she chopped up and enormous amount of cabbage, carrots, garlic and parsley. Added flour to the broth to thicken it. Let the vegetables cook in the broth longer, to let the flavours combine better. She took a frying pan and fried up the rabbit in butter, not even bothered by the heat and sizzling grease. She was so used to it. She poured all the contents of the pan into the stew. Spices, many different kinds that complimented each other were stirred in. Then, to finish she placed a lid on the pot to let it simmer. The longer she waited, the better tasting it would be._

 _She was so hyper focused on what she was doing that she forgot to check on the qunari, even though the kitchen was in clear view of the living room. She was surprised to see him up again, watching her quietly. "Oh," she said, "how are you feeling?"_

 _He did not answer her at first. She started to suspect that he didn't speak common until he said, "better."_

 _She sat on her legs next to him. "You speak common?"_

 _He looked down for a moment. "Not...well."_

 _"Oh, that's okay," she smiled, "I'll keep it simple. What's your name?"_

 _He looked at her blankly._

 _"Um, what do I call you?"_

 _"The Ashaad."_

 _Her head tilted at the 'the' in his name. Or was it his name? It sounded more like a title, but it was enough. She placed a hand above her heart. "I'm Vaneya."_

 _He nodded in understanding, looking her up and down. "Not hurt?"_

 _Referring to what happened earlier, she assumed. "I'm fine, you didn't hurt me."_

 _Again he looked down, clutching his sword tighter. "Sorry."_

 _She shook her head. "It's fine. The sword must be important."_

 _"My soul."_

 _She blinked, looking up at him as if she didn't hear him right. He chose his words carefully, slowly, she discovered, so he would know what that word means. His soul. How could his sword be his soul? She felt so guilty for considering to throw the sword into the river to wash it away, though he would have surely killed her if she did. Keeping that sword...saved both of their lives, it seemed._

 _She peered at the bandage. "Can I check it?"_

 _He nodded and lowered his head, and it was only now that she noticed the pretty golden earrings adorning the sharp tips of his ears, the way his black horns curled behind them, and away. Father was wrong. Beasts didn't care about jewelry. She unwrapped the admittedly loose bandages around his head and checked the wound. It was still red and a bit gory, but it wasn't inflamed or bleeding. In fact, the cut wasn't all that deep, just in the right spot to knock someone out. Lucky for him. Any deeper and her lack luster healing skills wouldn't have been enough._

 _Still, she cleaned and reapplied more of the anti-inflammatory medicine onto the wound, wrapping new bandages around his head, tighter this time. "I don't think you're in any danger. How did it happen, anyway?"_

 _His face scrunched slightly, staying silent as he regarded her. She didn't know if he simply did not want to say anything, or if he didn't know the proper words in common to explain. Either way, she shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. It's not my business. Are you hungry?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _It was so quickly said and honest and blunt that she couldn't help but grin at him. "I hope you like rabbit."_

 _Hours later, when their bellies were nice and full and the sun went down, Vaneya grabbed an extra blanket and pillow for herself and organized them on the couch, right where the Ashaad's bed was. He was using her mattress after all, and she felt no desire to sleep on the floor or in father's room. His bed always smelled of smoke and sweat, something she knew all too well because he made her make his bed every morning. The living room and couch were fine._

 _Although, she really, really hoped her father did not return in the morning to find her sleeping near a complete stranger._

 _She woke to birds chirping and cows mooing in the distance, so she could assume he did not return during the night. The Ashaad was already up, watching the birds outside the kitchen window hop around on the sill, hoping for scraps of seed. She half expected to wake up to him gone. She was used to that now._

 _"Sleep well?" she asked._

 _His head turned to regard her, sunlight beaming off his gold earrings in the motion. He nodded, eyeing her curiously. "You are...eh." His brow furrowed in thought. "I do not know the word...deaf sleep? When one is not...easy to wake." Then he said a few words in his own language. "That is you."_

 _Vaneya blinked at him. "Oh...like a deep sleeper? I suppose I am. Why?"_

 _"Your animals called with large voices. You did not stir. Is this...always?"_

 _"Anima-?" she repeated, then her eyes almost burst out of her skull. The cows! The farm! She had forgotten to feed them yesterday, forgot to tend to the crops, everything! She threw her blanket off her and rushed to get dressed, while the Ashaad stared at her with his brow raised in confusion. "I-I forgot about the farm! I-I will be right back!"_

 _The birds flew away when she slammed the door shut._

 _She rushed to the barn, grabbing the food for the cows she should have given them yesterday. In her desperation and guilt, she managed to carry the sacks much quicker than she normally would. Angry tears still swelled in her eyes, but she fought them back. She couldn't cry. This was her fault, wasn't it? If father knew, he would be so angry. To bring a beast into his home and neglect his farm...even she didn't know for sure the extent of punishment he would use._

 _She harvested vegetables as quickly as she could after she tended to the complaining cows, sweat pouring down her face in the heat. Her hands shook uncontrollably. She could hear his voice in her head._

Do you think this is a joke, Vaneya?

Do you think our livelihood is a joke?

Do you think you can get away with being lazy?

How could you bring that monster to my home?

 _She cried out suddenly. She had cut her finger with her shears as she clipped tomatoes off their vine. Redness welled and poured down her finger._

 _She dropped everything and ran back home._

 _The Ashaad was sitting cross-legged on the mattress, eyes closed in meditation. She wondered if he had stayed like that for the hours she was gone. When he heard her enter the room, his eyes opened, blinking in confusion once more. "Your eyes are wet."_

 _She rubbed her eyes with her arm, plopping herself next to him. "I can't do this."_

 _"This?"_

 _"This life!" she shouted, forgetting that she shouldn't be yelling at him. He did nothing. "I am no farmer! I've never been good at it! I've never shown any talent for it! Why my father disappears and leaves it all to me is a damn mystery! I don't-I don't-"_

 _The Ashaad frowned. "If you are no good, why was it...given?"_

 _Her hands gripped her knees. "I don't know! It makes no sense!"_

 _"Yes. It does not."_

 _Her mouth opened slightly as her throat tightened. She turned to look up at him, her eyes brimming again with tears. No one...ever said that to her. When she went into town, expressed any negative opinions about the farm, her father...they would only say that she should just keep helping him. As his daughter, it was her obligation. He keeps you fed. He raised you. Don't be ungrateful._

 _Sorry your father leaves you, but he really cares. You can't abandon him._

 _"There is no purpose in...eh." He struggled with the words. "In bad work. No forward. Stand still. Struggle." He looked at her, and there was something in them that she had never seen before. "In the Qun...we are given purpose. A role. Your role. We move as one."_

 _"H-how do you find your role?"_

 _"Tamrassans." She had no idea what he meant by that, but she didn't interrupt him. "They see us. Find us. Test us."_

 _She chuckled, despite everything. "Well, I guess they wouldn't make me a farmer, huh? I'd fail that test rather quick."_

 _"No failing. Finding."_

 _"Then...then you Qunari are lucky," Vaneya smiled, "being a farmer is all I'm ever allowed to be."_

 _He leaned over to her, eyes matching hers. "Be Qunari."_

 _Her eyes widened, her head moving back not because she was uncomfortable with him that close, but more out of surprise. "But I'm not...I was born here, not in the...the Seheron."_

 _"The Qun is...everyone. Human. Elf. Dwarf. Kossith. It is learned."_

 _She stared at him for a minute, before tearing her eyes away. She looked down to the floor. "I- it's very kind of you to think that I could just leave and blend in with your people. But this place is all I've known. I can't abandon my father. I'm all he has."_

 _The Ashaad leaned back, his expression seemingly unchanged, but Vaneya could see the disappointment in his brow, his eyes. She could feel her heart sink. Yet another person she disappoints._

 _Another three days passed. The Ashaad managed to stand and walk around along with her, helping her out with some of the chores that he could. It was not his role, he said, but he felt this was a way to pay the debt he "owed" her. She told him he owed her nothing, but he insisted. To be honest, it was a relief. The longer her father was away, the more anxiety she felt. Anxiety over where he was, what he was doing, and the imaginings of what he would do if he saw the Ashaad. She felt so terrible her hands shook._

 _During the hours they did not work the farm, the Ashaad would sit and meditate, while Vaneya relaxed and read her books. They spoke little, but it was not because of discomfort. Vaneya never really felt as safe as she did by his side. His presence relaxed her, regardless of large muscles, horns, and piercing eyes. Maybe she was clinging to him because she so rarely had contact with anyone besides father. But Ashaad never expected anything from her, demanded nothing. She could just...be._

 _But that came to an end when the door flew open and her father returned home._

 _Vaneya dropped her book. Ashaad stayed in his meditative stance, but he glared up at her father. And father...stood frozen, his eyes darting back and forth from Ashaad to her. His face turned to a furious red. "VANEYA," he screamed eventually, "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"_

 _"He was injured-" Vaneya began, but he cut her short._

 _"He is a Qunari!" father hissed, grabbing a nearby vase and wielding it like a weapon. "You-you brought him into my home? I leave for only a few days and THIS IS WHAT YOU DO TO ME?"_

 _"A WEEK!" Vaneya yelled back, and it was loud enough to surprise her enraged father. "You left me for a week with no notice, no word of where you were going or what you were doing or when you'd come back! Where were you?"_

 _"That. Is not. Your concern," he snarled, enunciating every word through his teeth. "The only thing that matters is that you brought that thing here!"_

 _Ashaad stood up. His sword was kept at his hip as it always was, but he made no move to grab it. He was just as tall as father, but there was no question which presence demanded more respect and attention. He said nothing to the man who kept screaming. Father's grip on the vase tightened as Ashaad moved towards him, then stopped. Ashaad's earrings made a pleasant noise as his head turned back to her._

 _"It is still a choice."_

 _Then he walked out of the house._

 _The next few hours were a mixture of humiliation and emptiness, as her father made sure that her life would have double the amount of farm work and that she would never be allowed outside this farm so long as he was the boss. He locked her door when she went to bed, her head swimming from...everything. So this was it. Her life from now on. Locked doors and back breaking work that she couldn't even do properly, a father who would watch her even more closely now. Was he her father, or her jailor?_

 _What was the point of continuing on?_

In the Qun...we are given purpose.

 _Vaneya's eyes flashed with determination. She tied her blankets together, wrapping one end around her bed frame. She looked at her door once more before going out the window._

 _She sprinted through the fields of crops, past the cow pen, splashing through the river she found Ashaad in the first place. Maybe he wasn't too far. Maybe she could find him if she kept running-_

 _As soon as she entered the small forested area on the other side of the river, she spotted a large figure waiting behind a tree, leaning against it and arms folded. She couldn't believe it. He should have gotten much further away by now, even with his injury. She felt a lump in her throat._

 _"Were you...waiting for me?"_

 _He nodded once, moving to stand in front of her._

 _Her smile was watery. "Thank you. I've-I've decided. That I would like some purpose in my life."_

 _"You are wise. And strong." Then he said a few words of his language, a language she would have to learn, and tipped his head._

 _She returned the gesture, hoping that was what she should do. He seemed to receive it well. "Can you promise me that we can be friends?"_

 _He looked down at her, the corners of his lips curving slightly. "I would prefer this as well."_

* * *

When the Mashaar finished, the two youngest listeners were sitting on the ground beside each other, watching her with utter fascination and stars in their eyes. Javeen couldn't help a small grin looking at them, and watching the Mashaar raise an eyebrow at them. She didn't expect her story to be received so well.

"Satisfied, kadan?" she asked Kaaras.

He smiled at her. "Yes. I am."

He let go of her gently, and Javeen noticed the Mashaar squeezing his hand before nodding at the rest of them, returning to her station.

After a few more pleasantries were exchanged, both Camlen and Kaaras left to continue their duties, whatever they may be, leaving Joanna and Javeen to finish off the tour. Joanna was oddly silent, her eye distant, but not panicked, which had been rather common for her so far.

"You okay?" Javeen asked.

Joanna blinked, then smiled. "Hm? Oh, yes, of course! I was just...the Mashaar's story was amazing! Really! I-I admire her." She glanced at her broken arm, frowning for a bit, then brightening again. "Let's...let's finish the walk around and go back to the healer. My legs are a bit tired."

"Sure..." Javeen nodded, staring at Joanna's back as she strode ahead.

Well, Javeen thought as she followed, it isn't any of my business what she does.


	9. Leandra's Visit

"It should be close," the healer said, with a curt nod. "You are almost at the point where we can perform the purge. After that, you will be able to heal at a normal rate."

Javeen didn't hear him. She was staring at the wall of the tent, brow furrowed in thought. The healer stared at her, displeasure creasing the corners of his mouth. Then he grinned. He held his index finger and thumb together, aiming for her forehead. The flick that ensued was backed with ridiculous strength that a healer simply should not have, causing Javeen's head to keel backward, her eyes wide with disbelief.

She placed a hand where he had flicked her. "You. Did not. Just do that."

"It is unhealthy to deny reality," the healer said smugly.

"What kind of doctor _causes_ symptoms for his patient?"

"A doctor that has a patient willfully ignoring him," the healer replied, crossing his arms across his chest. "You have never so blatantly ignored my examinations. Explain."

Javeen sighed, and rubbed away the last bit of throbbing pain. She did have some begrudging respect for his strength. "Egh. Look, I'm sorry I wasn't listening. My mind is on something more...immediate."

"More important than the fact you are close to the purge?"

Javeen's eyes widened. "Oh. That's what you were talking about? That...that's great."

The healer's eyes narrowed. "If there is something going on that needs to be addressed-"

Javeen shook her head. "It's my birthday tomorrow."

The healer paused, a look of confusion on his face. "And? Do you possess the human fear of getting older?"

"No," Javeen said immediately, shooing away that thought as quick as she could. "My mother will insist a visit. That might prove complicated if the Arishok doesn't allow it."

"If the Arishok doesn't allow it-"

"She will insist. And we will witness a true battle that could annihilate Kirkwall."

The healer gave her a look of disbelief that quite clearly said that his general couldn't lose to a noblewoman, but Javeen felt like her mother had quite a few surprises when it came to someone getting in the way of her children. For example, Leandra somehow managed to get mail and gifts through to Bethany even though the Circle insisted no outside contact from family or otherwise. Was the Arishok more powerful than the entirety of Kirkwall's chantry? Possibly. She would still give him a run for his money.

"If it is soon, inform the Arishok today. Do not delay."

"I know, I know." Javeen sighed. "Some mothers are complicated, healer. Mine happens to be one."

The healer snorted. "Most people are, Hawke. That has not stopped you before."

True. She nodded a thanks to the healer, making her way to the Arishok's war tent, where he spent most of his time when he was not watching over his army. But she hesitated at the entrance. Maker, why was this making her nervous? Of all the battles she's been in and she kept her calm...this is the thing that makes her stomach twist? Ugh.

"Arishok," she called in Qunlat, "may I enter and speak with you?"

"Enter."

The Arishok was pouring over a large map pinned to a massive wood table, crafted perfectly and a marvel for a woodcutter to look at. The map was of Sundermount, and if Javeen could hazard a guess, he was mapping out supply areas. She doubted he would care for anything else there that was not resources. There were two other qunari with him, Kaaras among them. He nodded to her as she stepped into the tent.

"You may leave," the Arishok said to the other two, and they left immediately. Kaaras shot her a brief smile before exiting. "What is it, Hawke?"

"I request that my mother be allowed to enter the compound," Javeen said carefully. Not too pushy but not weakly either. You needed both when requesting something from him, which thankfully wasn't that often. "Only for tomorrow. There is a...celebration and she will wish to be here with me to celebrate it."

The Arishok narrowed his eyes. "For what purpose is this...celebration?"

"Tomorrow marks the date I was born," Javeen said, "and we celebrate living for another year. It is especially important in the line of work that I do."

He snorted. "Such a celebration would invite fear of risk, even when it is necessary."

"It can," Javeen nodded. "However, it does not so for myself, as you well know. I promise, I will not let her disrupt anything in the compound, and she will leave before the day ends."

The Arishok's nose crinkled as his frown deepened, and Javeen prepared for the famous 'no' he so loved giving, but he just shook his head and returned to his map. "I will allow it, Hawke. To repay you for sending those humans away." His eye snapped back at her for a moment. "However. You will not ask me for anything else. And she will be watched."

"Of course," Javeen nodded, trying not to sound as relieved as she felt. "Thank you."

He shooed her out of the tent with an impatient look. She couldn't believe how well that went. Now all she needed to do was get through tomorrow, and hope her mother didn't go all out on silly gifts. She didn't like that even when she wasn't staying in a compound full of qunari.

* * *

Leandra nervously waited for Javeen to come to the front of the compound, trying not to stare at the tall guards towering over her and glowering. She had a satchel over her shoulder; a small one, Javeen noted thankfully. "Mother," she called.

"Oh, Javeen!" Leandra beamed, throwing her arms around her daughter. Mother wore her usual silks and kept her hair well, the lines on her face reflecting a life time of smiling... even though she had many, many reasons to never smile again. An amber necklace hung from her neck as it always did, the first gift Malcolm Hawke ever gave her. He gave her that necklace when they were so poor they could barely afford food, but he crafted it all the same to remind her of her old life, even just a little. He went days without eating to afford the materials to make it. She never took it off. "I've been so worried about you. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Javeen awkwardly patted her mother on the back. "Is everything good back at the estate?"

"Yes, of course. Merrill tries her best to keep my spirits up, bless her. Though sometimes...she creates more problems than fixing them."

That made Javeen smile. "Good."

Leandra smiled back, looking around the entrance."Well, come on then! Let's get some food in you!"

"You brought food?"

"Of course! I brought your favourites. Sometimes I miss cooking, you know. Why not do it on a special day like this?"

Javeen brought her hands up in defeat. She could never withstand her enthusiasm. "Alright, alright. Follow me."

Javeen lead her up the steps of the empty sentry station that she sometimes liked to bring books to read to. This one was only stationed at night, so during the day it was perfect to be alone. Or have a picnic apparently. Though she knew they were being watched. The Arishok kept his word.

Leandra set up by covering the stone with a blanket, placing containers of food on top. She of course had outdone herself, she brought way too much food for the two of them to eat. Baby ribs grilled with garlic and hot pepper sauce, a mountain of potato hash, stuffed peppers filled with mushrooms and cheese. And classic plain bread with butter. Besides the last, these were foods that were only made for special occasions, like her birthday. Now that they could afford to eat better than this everyday...Javeen had made sure the cooks would not make these foods often.

She tried to not be sentimental, but she wanted to keeps these foods special.

As Javeen chewed on a rib, Leandra shuffled through her satchel and brought out a piece of paper. "Here, darling. Your gift. Happy Birthday."

Eyeing it wearily, Javeen wiped her hands on a napkin. "Mother, we've been over this. You don't have to get me anything." Though usually she got her things like clothing or tools. She'd never just given her a piece of paper.

"I know." Leandra blushed. "I-this letter. Maker. It's more embarrassing than anything. But I know you'd like it. And I couldn't really stuff an expensive dress in this satchel, could I?"

"Thank the universe for satchels, then. What is this?" Javeen read through the letter. It wasn't even addressed to her...it was...it was addressed to Seneshal Bran. From mother. Javeen smiled in delight. It was an _angry_ letter to that pompous twit from her own mother. There were swears. Maker, it nearly made her feel _giddy_.

She folded the letter up and tucked it in her pocket, her mouth twitching to keep it from spreading ear to ear. "Mother. This...this is a wonderful gift. I will treasure this forever. I'm only sorry you never sent it to the intended recipient."

Leandra sighed. "I know you well, sweetheart. Oh, but _please_ don't show it to anyone else. It's so embarrassing."

Javeen smirked. "It's for my eyes only."

They ate as much as their stomachs could handle without exploding, talking about mundane things, mostly things that Javeen had missed at home. Merrill was often the subject. She was glad that Leandra had taken such a shining to Merrill, what with her being an outcast Dalish after all. Javeen had never brought a girlfriend home because she'd never had one before. She'd never experienced attraction or romantic love until Merrill, and that had only developed long after she had met Merrill. Leandra constantly brought her up, implying that marriage was a good option soon. Javeen loved her for that.

"Of course she wanted to come with me today, but I know I was the only one allowed to come here for now. Ah, today I just keep handing you letters!" She brought out not a piece of paper, but an envelope fat with paper. "This is from her. She said she'd give you a proper gift the next time she sees you."

Leandra blushed as Javeen began to open it. "Read it later, darling! I'm sure a romantic letter is best read after your mother leaves."

"Point." She tucked it into her pocket.

Leandra chuckled, her smile gentle...until it was not. It faded as she looked over Javeen. "Now that the fun part is over...it's time to talk about the things you don't like."

"What-"

"Tell me everything about your injuries. They are serious."

Javeen shook her head. "I told you, I'm fine-"

"You are not fine!" Leandra shouted. "You think I can't tell when you're trying to hide yourself from me? I know you. I know how you walk, how you act. It's different! Maker, have you looked in a mirror lately? You look _exhausted_. So don't tell me you're not hurting when you are. I need to know these things."

Javeen's brows furrowed. "I'll be better soon. That's all I can say."

"Not 'can.' Will. That's all you _will_ say." Leandra leaned in, hurt plastered all over her face. "Please, Javeen. For once, be honest with me. I will not take your word for it until I know exactly what is wrong. I have done everything in my power to accept that I can't even _see_ you everyday, so I am at least going to get this out of you."

Taking a deep breath and clenching her fists, Javeen shook her head. She fought back mild dizziness from the venom. "I...the pain is not...I can handle it. Really. It's bad, but it's not impossible to deal with. I have good and bad days. The healer said the purge will be soon. Which means I'm healing fine. Not being able to move around like before...not being able to do any sort of exercise...that's what I hate the most. I feel...egh."

"Vulnerable?" Leandra offered.

Maker above she hated that word, especially when applied to herself. Especially when she could not deny it. She said nothing, but mother always knew.

"I'm sorry, honey. This has been terrible for you." She smiled sadly. "I wish I could just kiss it away, like I did when you were a child."

"That never actually worked."

She laughed. "Of course not. Malcolm was better at it with his magic. But I miss the days when you actually came to me when you were hurt." She paused. "Why did you stop?"

"You didn't-"

"And don't say I didn't need to know. A mother needs to know when her child is hurt."

Javeen sighed. "Father told me to protect you all. He taught me that protecting family was what mattered. How could I protect you if all you could worry about whether or not I was hurt?"

"Maker be good, I love that man with everything I am, but do I ever wish he didn't teach you that." Leandra shook her head. "Sometimes I wish he never taught you anything at all."

Javeen's eyes widened. That was the first time she'd ever said anything negative about father. "Do you mean that?"

"No." She paused. "I don't know. But Javeen...you have to stop this. Protecting us is a good thing, but it can't take over all of you. If we get hurt, you can't...you can't blame only yourself. It isn't a failure on your part. You have to start trusting us to take care of ourselves. That goes for your companions, too. Let us in and we will help you."

Years ago, when Carver died, this was the woman who had said it was her fault. She apologized after, but those words had hung around Javeen like a cancer. Javeen never blamed her for that outburst, because she believed it to be true. Now here she was, telling her that his death wasn't her fault. Her mother had done some growing in these years. While Javeen had stood still.

She thought of the Arishok. He did not ever hide himself from his men. He trusted them completely. Maybe it was time for her to learn how to do that.

"Come on," Javeen said suddenly, "I want to show you something."

Leandra gathered up everything and followed her daughter to her wheel, shuffling inside the tent of the qunari craftsman who allowed Javeen to place her ceramics and woodwork. Javeen reached for something wrapped in a white cloth, and when she unveiled a beautiful wooden recurve bow, Leandra gasped lightly.

Javeen handed it to her to hold. "My latest work. And my finest. It's almost finished."

"It...It's beautiful, Javeen. These details...the Amell crest is on it." She smiled, brushing her hand against all the details. "I never knew a weapon could be so..."

"Maybe not all of father's lessons were good..." Javeen said carefully, "but without them, I wouldn't be able to do this. I think that's enough reason to forgive him."

Tears welled in Leandra's eyes, but she nevertheless kept her smile, nodding and sniffling. "Yes. You're absolutely right."

* * *

Before Leandra left the compound, she turned to Javeen with a hard look on her face. "That purge...when it happens I want to be there."

Javeen sighed deeply. "I don't think that will be possible."

"Then I'll write angry letters to the Arishok until he allows it."

"You're _impossible_ ," Javeen groaned.

"Only because I love you." She gave Javeen one last hug. "Take care of yourself, my darling girl. You will beat this."

Javeen grinned. "There was never any doubt for that."

She returned to her bow after Leandra left. She wished father was still here, so she could show him her work. There were so many things that would be different if he was still here. She took a deep breath, and grabbed her chisel. She would finish the bow today.

While she worked, she thought of all those lessons he taught her. Maybe they weren't all healthy. Maybe in the end, some of them did more harm than good. But they were hers. Unique. They were her connection to her father. She couldn't easily disregard them, like mother could. He had put faith in her that she could protect their family. Perhaps the burden of balance was all on her shoulders.

She held the bow in her hands, testing out its own balance. It hadn't just been him that taught her to be who she is. Without Arzhela, her teacher, she would have never learned how to fight, how to use a bow like this. She hadn't even needed to do it. Her father may have taught her how to make things, but Arzhela taught her how to fulfil her purpose.

Javeen polished the last detail of her bow. That was why she'd name it Arzhela.


	10. Joanna's Day

Joanna watched the masked qunari nervously, his large hand hovering over her bad eye. Blue healing light encompassed her sight for the minute it took for the usual process, one that she had went through every day ever since she came here. The healer was present as always, observing the process. When it was over, the masked qunari was taken away, as they always were. Joanna was certain it wasn't always the same qunari that healed her, but when she asked who they were, the answer was always the same.

'Saarebas.'

She wanted to thank them for taking the time to heal her, but they were always taken before she had the chance, and she never saw them outside the healer's tent. The healer gently pushed her up as she had just been lying there in thought, and it was time for her check up. Most of her injuries were almost healed completely; it wasn't like Hawke's situation where magic was not an option. But her eye...that was more complicated, and it took a lot more healing to fix it. If it was going to be fixed at all. The healer hadn't sugar-coated it, there was a good chance her eyesight in that eye would not be healed. They just had to keep up these periodic healings...and wait.

Joanna found she couldn't wait very well these days.

The healer attempted to brush the messy ringlets of hair away from her face to get a better look, only for them to bounce back to be in the way. Her hair had become unruly the longer she was here; she had no energy to care for it, and it had grown quite a bit longer. She helped out by holding her hair back, but that didn't solve the problem.

After the healer finished the checkup, he smiled his usual comforting smile. "Your hair has become a hindrance. Do you wish for some assistance to control it?"

Joanna blinked. "I-I would, but I don't know who to ask..."

"I can be of assistance."

"You know how to cut hair?" Joanna asked, unable to contain her excitement. She had no idea the healer, or anyone in the compound for that matter, knew how to style hair. Though...there were some qunari who had wonderful braids and cornrows and twists, now that she thought about it. She supposed she had been too focused on other things to really wonder about it.

The healer blinked. "Most qunari do. How else do you think we manage each other's and our own?"

Joanna's jaw dropped. "Are you saying...the qunari do each other's hair?"

"...when needed."

The imagery of giant, muscular qunari sitting with arms crossed while their friend cut their hair and styled it...it was too cute to handle. It took everything in Joanna's power not to squee and weird out the man who had been nothing but kind and wonderful to her. Instead, she beamed. "I'd love your help. Thank you, healer."

He led her into a curtained off area filled with potions and herbs, all away from the going ons with the patients in the main room. He filled a basin with water, mixing in a wonderful smelling oil. Then he gave her a thick towel to drape over her lap. The healer wetted his hands in the basin, then started brushing her hair with long fingers and sharp fingernails. He wasn't rough, but he wasn't necessarily _gentle_ either, her face squeezing in discomfort when his fingers caught in a knot.

When her head was finally feeling clean, the healer took out a small razor and began the hard work. Joanna watched with mild curiosity and a healthy dose of nerves as countless ringlets of black hair fell across her face and into her lap. She'd always kept her hair somewhat long. Prim and proper. Her father always said her hair looked like a beautiful, black cloud, with a halo of brown in the sunlight. A description she had always been proud of.

Maker, she missed him. If he were still alive...none of this would have happened. She'd be back home, reading her favourite books with him, eating dinner with him, laughing at his terrible jokes-

The healer frowned, an unusual look for him. "I do not believe I cut you. Why are you crying?"

Joanna blinked in shock, only now feeling the wetness drop down her cheeks. Why...why did she cry only now, of all times? She'd managed to hold back her tears for so long...why now? She quickly wiped them away with a hand. "Oh, uhm," she stuttered, "it's nothing. I was just thinking of my dad."

 _Try not to care what other people think of you._ Hawke's advice was the hardest.

Surprisingly, the healer did not scowl at the mention of her father. Joanna expected impatience at her tears, but there was none in his demeanour. He simply nodded and continued his work, just a touch slower. "I see. I assume he is...not available in your life, considering your situation."

Joanna smiled sadly. "No. He died over a year ago. Wasting sickness. I just...suddenly missed him, I suppose."

The healer hummed in agreement. "Yes. I have known this feeling as well."

"You have?"

He nodded, tipping her head up to get a closer look at the work he'd done. "I lost my parents a long time ago. In my youth, I found it difficult to move on from their deaths. It wasn't until I joined the Qun that my mind was put at ease."

That was a lot to process at once. Joanna buzzed with questions, but settled on the one that pressed her the most. "How...how did the Qun help you move on?"

He took strands of ringlets on the side of her head with the injured eye and began tightly braiding them. It was meticulous work, one that he excelled at. "In the Qun, we do not mourn as you do. After death, we celebrate their purpose. We remember who they were, and we do not bother with the empty shells left behind. Although my parents were not a part of the Qun, it allowed me to let go of the day they died. Because, in me, their purpose, their being, was remembered and honoured."

"Celebrate their purpose..." echoed Joanna, "I-I'm not sure I understand. I don't know what my dad's purpose was. To me, he was just...dad."

"People outside the Qun usually don't understand." He paused. "I did not, at first. It is not something I can simply explain to you."

"It's something you have to...feel," she said slowly.

The healer paused, his brow raised in surprise. "Yes."

Joanna's face scrunched up in thought. "Well, my dad was a noble...but I don't think that was his purpose. He often talked about why he didn't like being one. I don't think your purpose is supposed to make you sad."

The healer said nothing.

"He wrote a lot though...stories of his past and history of his family that came from Rivain...but his writing never became well known or anything. Hm."

The healer shook his head. "All of those things you say. That 'he did not like it.' That 'he did not become well known.' Those are not factors in your purpose. It is simply what makes you who you are. And that purpose aids the Qun. It cannot be more than that." He poked her head. "And it is not up to you to decide someone's purpose. That is a role in the Qun. One that you probably would not be chosen for."

Joanna giggled. "I'm not very good at it, huh?"

"Therefore, you would not be suitable. Here." He handed her a small, circular mirror. "This will be sufficient."

Joanna blinked. The healer had trimmed the hair on her right side, letting the bouncy nature of it continue happily. But on the left, where the hair had covered her injured eye, was now tightly braided all throughout. It actually reminded her somewhat of the healer's style, though he did not have hair at all on the side that had those burn scars. They matched. It filled Joanna up with delight.

"Wow...thank you, healer. This looks great!"

"That does not matter...but you are welcome." He cleaned the razor with a towel before placing it back into its resting spot. "As for the rest of the day, you must get some exercise. Hm. Would you be willing to complete a task for me?"

Joanna immediately nodded enthusiastically. She felt guilty that she couldn't help out the healer and give back at least some of the kindness he had given her.

"Normally I would not request this of you...however the healers are all occupied with others in need. And it will prove useful in your recovery." He grabbed a few sacks and vials of herbs organized neatly at the back, throwing them together into a new empty pouch and pulling the string to close it. "Deliver this to the Mashaar. She will be out of this concoction today."

Joanna gave him a worried look, taking the herbs with the hand that was not in a sling. "Oh no, is she sick?"

"No. We simply cannot have newborns running around the compound without any tamrassans present."

Joanna nearly dropped the pouch, the heat from her cheeks probably could cook an egg. "O-oh. I-uh...will deliver this right away."

She almost tripped leaving the tent, but caught herself before she face planted in front of the whole compound to see. She took a deep breath to calm her embarrassment, and grinned at the prospect of having a job to do.

She spotted Camlen on the way to the cooks, resting after a long morning of practicing with swords along with the other converts. That was the usual schedule, mornings were for swords, afternoons they worked with the few healers handing out healing potions and general duties, evenings for cleaning. Their trainings were not focused on one skill, since they could not determine what their roles were just yet. There weren't that many converts either, only about two dozen or so, and most of them were alienage elves. And boys. She hadn't seen a single girl convert.

Probably because most women wouldn't step foot into a place with towering strange men. Which was sad to Joanna. She had not been harassed once ever since she got here, and she was sure there were many women who would jump at the chance for a new life.

She paused. _Doesn't that include me too?_

She was taken out of that thought when Camlen made his way over to her. "Nice hair."

Joanna grinned. "Thanks! The healer did this for me."

"He finally got tired of those curls covering his job, huh?"

"That's a mean way to put it, but...yes."

Camlen eyed the pouch in her hand. "What you got there?"

The blush returned. "Oh! Um, I'm delivering some...some herbs to the Mashaar for the healer."

"Uh huh," Camlen grinned, "what kind of herbs?"

Joanna just smiled nervously. "No idea."

"You're a terrible liar." Camlen stretched his arms. "I've got a bit of time to kill. Mind if I come along?"

"Of course you can." Camlen really had been a good friend to her, helping her out with the bath schedules and taking the time to visit when he could. She briefly thought about her dad again, and then if Camlen had any family to speak of. If he did, they were not here. She wondered if his family life was perhaps a bit like hers. And if not, what would motivate him to join the Qunari? She decided to try and ask, they were good friends she thought. Hopefully this wouldn't change that.

"Mind if I ask you a personal question?"

He looked at her with a tired eye as they continued to walk. "Go for it."

"Can I ask about your family? What they're like?"

That woke him up. "Uh. What makes you ask that?"

Joanna shrugged. "I was thinking about my dad earlier...and well, I don't know. I'm just curious. You don't have to talk about it if it's hard."

Camlen sighed. "It's not hard, really. It's just I haven't talked about them since I joined." He paused for a moment. "Hm. Well, I come from a pretty big family. Bunch of siblings. Mum and Dad. And Grandpa." A small smile formed on his face. "They're okay, I guess. The occasional fight, mostly between my younger siblings. We...they do their best with what they've got. Not a lot of money, but that's normal in the alienage."

Joanna smiled. "Sounds nice."

"Grandpa's really cool though," Camlen grinned enthusiastically, "so we got this well for us all to share amongst the elves, and most folk just use a bucket or whatever and they have to go several times a day to get water. But gramps carries this huge-" Camlen stretched out his arms as wide as they would go, emphasizing the word, "-ceramic vase thing that weighs a freaking ton. And he carries it on his back somehow. Every few days. You'd think he'd throw out his back, but nope. I swear even his spine has muscles."

Joanna gaped. "Your grandpa must be the strongest man in the world."

"Pft, maybe." Camlen laughed. "One time I tried to lift it, and I ended up underneath it instead. I look like a twig next to him."

Joanna giggled. "You must be used to that here, too."

Camlen pouted. "Hey."

Her smile faded as she looked at his cheerful demeanour. "I...your family sounds wonderful. It's just...why would you leave?"

His smile also disappeared. "Maybe _you_ don't get this but...being poor is kinda an all encompassing thing. Doesn't matter how kind or wonderful they are. They barely survive as it is."

Joanna could feel her lip tremble already. "You left to help them?"

"One less mouth to feed." Camlen's eyes narrowed, and shook his head. "But that's only part of it. Kirkwall is a dead-end. Especially for elves. There's no future here. And I didn't want to be stuck, banging my head against the wall, wondering when I was going to get my share."

Joanna nodded slowly, ignoring the pit forming in her stomach.

"So I came here," he continued, "where else was there to go? Another alienage? Pft. The Dalish? If I could even find them, the way I hear, they get killed by templars and humans anyway. I want a future, not a death trap."

"You want a place."

Camlen eyed her. "Yeah. I...tried to convince my family the same. But they didn't go for it, so...I just have to hope they'll be okay in the end."

"Camlen, I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm here, aren't I?"

Joanna cracked a smile and nodded. She wondered how heartbroken his family must be now that he was gone. But she couldn't blame him for his choice, and it was his choice to make. Besides, if he hadn't, she never would have met him. Maker, what a terrible thought. They really were on opposite sides of society, at least before everything happened, and the idea that she wouldn't meet someone so wonderful if things stayed the same...there was at least a silver lining in what happened that day.

Which begs the same question that has been gnawing at her ever since. _Where do I go now?_

Family wasn't an option. She didn't have friends, save for Camlen. And the healer. Oh, and Hawke too. And while she had no doubt Hawke would take charge to find her something...Joanna felt that _she_ needed to decide for herself where she wanted to go. No small feat, for sure.

When the two arrived at the cooking area it took a few moments for the Mashaar to find an opportunity to greet them. "What is it, you two?" she asked quickly, her temples beading with sweat. It was a warm day, and the constant heat from the burning coals must have been terrible to endure. Although there were no complaints from the Mashaar of course. And wasn't the place where Qunari lived really hot?

Speaking of which...Joanna smiled nervously as she felt her blush return for hopefully the last time. "I-I was sent by the healer to give you this."

"Ah." The Mashaar's face never stopped being neutral as she took the pouch from Joanna. "My thanks. Off you go, then."

As quick as that exchange she returned to work, leaving the two youngsters to stand awkwardly for a few moments. Joanna might think it was from embarrassment that the Mashaar left so fast, but no. She was always like that. Dedicated to her work. Joanna wished she would stay and talk more, like she did when she told them when she met Kaaras...but the Mashaar had her own way. And she treated everyone like that. It wasn't a negative thing per se, in fact Joanna felt some relief that it wasn't just herself that got that treatment.

Thinking about it now, the healer had mentioned that the compound was...well, not exactly nervous, but concerned of her presence, something that Joanna was quite used to with her family. But here it was different. No pity glances. No glares. No hiding away. Joanna couldn't express how grateful she was for all of it.

 _Ah...Papa. What should I do? You always had something clever to say._

"Well, that was quick," Camlen yawned, "I'm gonna head to the baths. Want to come along?"

Joanna shook her head. "Not this time, thanks. I'll see you later."

They waved goodbye as they went off in opposite directions. Joanna puttered around the compound, unsure if she should return to the healer's tent right away. She was supposed to get some exercise, after all. She spotted Hawke at her station, concentrating on the finishing touches of her bow. She took such care in her work that Joanna couldn't help but watch for a few minutes, marvelling at a skilled craftswoman's work.

She nearly gasped as Hawke stepped on the bow, pulling it hard as she attached the string. Joanna had no idea how bows worked, was this the right way to do that? It looked like it could snap in half! But it didn't. Of course it didn't, Hawke knew what she was doing. When she was done, Hawke picked up the now complete bow, holding it delicately on her fingertips to test the balance. With a satisfied smile, Hawke nodded. She finished it.

Joanna wanted to go and congratulate her, but she stopped in her tracks. The Arishok himself got there first. They exchanged a few words, him and Hawke, then she offered the bow to him. That was when the mood shifted, and other qunari noticed. Joanna had no idea what was going on, but the qunari were adamant in watching the exchange. Indeed, the Arishok's demeanour changed as Hawke handed the bow to him. He took it delicately, balancing the bow in his hands the same way Hawke did. He drank in every detail.

Joanna suddenly wanted to turn away. It felt like she was watching something she shouldn't, something maybe sacred that an outsider didn't have the authority to see. She ducked through the qunari still watching, speeding back to the healer's tent. Her heart felt heavy for some reason. And it wasn't until she saw the healer's smile as she returned that she figured out why.

Hawke blended in everywhere. She fit together like a puzzle piece made universal for every puzzle. She was well respected, earning that respect through hard work and dedication. She always had an answer. She always had somewhere to go. And Joanna...Joanna was never so envious in her life.

"Um, healer?" she asked, fiddling with her hands nervously, "would it be possible to...would it be okay if I helped out a little? I-I don't have any sort of qualifications but...I'd work hard and learn fast."

The healer's smile changed. He reached over and put his hand on her shoulder. Then, he shook his head. "No. You may be confused because of Hawke's situation, but we do not assign a role to outsiders. I can only give you something that is related to your recovery."

Joanna sighed, and nodded. She expected as much. She returned to her cot, reclining in it and closing her eyes. She tried to do something she had only once before. She tried picturing her birth mother, hear her voice, and looked for any compulsion to find her, if she was somewhere.

She found nothing.


	11. The Purge

Holding a complete Arzhela was like holding a small piece of herself.

Javeen didn't have the words to describe it. No weapon felt like this before. Did it come from the thrill of creating it herself? Or was it the pride of her craft that filled her with such a bond for this carved piece of wood? Bows in her past had been fine, they had done their job well as any. But Javeen knew by the way that Arzhela curved that she would enjoy pulling that string on no other bow but her.

Her...? Maker, she was like Varric now, calling his crossbow pet names and acting like Bianca was real. Perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. She could at the very least understand it. She could not wait to practice with her. She glanced at her hands. _Soon, soon._

Javeen could feel eyes on her, and she turned to find the Arishok watching from afar on his dais. He had damned good eyesight, that one. Well, if he wanted to talk, he could come to her this time. She motioned with her head for him to come forward, and surprise, he did.

"Hawke."

"Arishok."

His eyes moved up and down the bow. "It is finished."

What others may sarcastically call 'riveting conversation,' Javeen and the Arishok would call conversations without the unneeded extra words, the ribbons and bows that do nothing. Javeen appreciated that.

She nodded, shifting Arzhela in her hands to show him all sides. "She is. Perfectly balanced. Built for speed, but enough strength to get the job done."

He nodded. "Much like yourself."

Javeen cracked a smile. "Thanks."

The Arishok eyed her. "You said...'her.' Have you given it a name?"

"Arzhela." Javeen said. "Named after the woman who taught me how to use a bow in the first place. How to make one. Felt right." She offered the Arishok to hold the bow. "Here. Test the balance."

The Arishok's brow raised in surprise, but he did not move to take it. "You would not know this..." he started almost awkwardly, his brow furrowing not in anger...but something else. "To us, our weapons are an extension of ourselves. We do not let people we do not trust or respect completely to hold them. I heard that your mother was allowed to hold it, and that is expected, however-"

Javeen just stared at him. "I do actually know that," she said with a hint of humour. "Go on."

The Arishok hesitated. A story of a lifetime. He took Arzhela, crafted perfectly to fit her hand into his own, dwarfing the recurve bow easily with his massive hand and arm. He took it as gentle as one would cradle a child. He balanced her on the tips of his fingers, testing as she told him to. Javeen could see the profound respect the Arishok took to handle her. Sometimes, when you let someone handle something of yours and they do little things, like squeeze it too much or move too quickly with it, and it makes your heart twinge in fear that they may actually break it. Javeen felt no fear here.

Qunari around them stopped to watch what was happening. Javeen had long since learned how to read the mood of the people here, and from what she could deduct from the way their brows raised, the way their bodies never tensed, and that their features remained soft, that the others were genuinely curious and accepting of what they were seeing, if surprised. To break the Qunari from their work and duty to see this meant that it was indeed special to them. It made sense, given how important personal weapons and tools were to the Qunari.

It had to be the first time they saw an outsider do this. Perhaps that was why they had to stop and watch.

After several moments, the Arishok finished his intense inspection and handed Arzhela back to her, as gentle as he took it. "She is of fine make," he said, his expression betraying no emotion. But she could tell he was holding something back. She would not push, though. Javeen Hawke had done similar things in the past. "Well done, Hawke."

She wondered how many people actually heard those words from him. They were simple, but perfect. She tipped her head. "You honour me, Arishok."

Words the healer taught her, that in the beginning he smugly commented that she probably would never find the right situation to use them. Ha. Take that, healer.

That night she returned to the Mashaar's tent with Arzhela, and was surprised to find that Kaaras and the Mashaar were already there, waiting. They presented a gift, a wooden stand crafted specifically for Arzhela to sit upon. She placed the bow on it, and there it stayed in the middle of the large table of the living area, close by Kaaras' own tools. It was at that moment that Javeen felt an alarming feeling.

She felt at home.

* * *

"It is time, Hawke."

Javeen stared blankly, thinking she surely misheard him. "You're sure?"

"No," the healer deadpanned, "of course I do not know. I have only spent four months monitoring your progress in order to calculate the exact moment you can proceed with the purge."

" _Okay,_ I get it."

"Do you? You must prepare yourself for this Hawke." The healer's sarcasm vanished quickly. "I have not explained the process yet, as it is rather...alarming."

Javeen raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"The venom is inherently magical. Bloodmagic is strong, as you should well know. The only thing to rid yourself of this venom is through magic." He paused for a moment, looking almost apologetic. "Healing magic."

A chill went up her spine. The last time healing magic was used on her...she remembered that experience well even as dazed as she was. It was unlike anything she had felt before. And it had only lasted a few seconds last time. "How long does it take?"

The healer sighed. "There is no true answer to that. I have only seen this a few times. Each person was different. And not all of them survived." He gave her a hard stare. "On average, it took hours. Hawke, I expect you will reopen your wounds, as the bloodmagic will fight. That is why it is so painful. Now would be the time to inform your mother, and tell her to-"

"She will not be here while I go through that." Javeen balled her fists tightly. Mother would be devastated, but...if the worst should come to pass...she would not let her mother watch another one of her children die.

The healer nodded, slowly she noticed. "Very well. Take the next three days to prepare yourself."

"Why not today?"

"Because you need to be prepared for this Hawke." His tone was impatient, as if she were missing something. "This will likely be the worst physical pain you will ever endure. You have never given birth, correct?"

 _That_ question threw her off. "Wh- no. No I have never given birth, where did that-"

He cut her off. "Have you ever been burned so fiercely that you needed skin to be replaced?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No."

"Then this will be the worst physical pain you have ever experienced."

Javeen rolled her eyes. "Fine. In three days."

She was treating this lightly...but she would in fact need those three days. It was time enough to get her head out of her ass and actually think about what she needed to do. Pain did not frighten her, or even dying, really. But what she leaves behind...that was important. After two days of debating, she finally took a pen and some paper, and began to write.

 _Merrill,_

 _Look, I know I'm an asshole. I'm sorry this has been the only letter I've sent you since my injury. That novel long letter you sent me for my birthday was greatly appreciated, and I should have sent you a reply. And I realize this letter is only being written because the purge is tomorrow and there is a chance I might not survive. I didn't think you'd want a hastily written pile of excuses, but that was dumb of me to assume too. I'm not great at this. You know. You've put up with me for a long time._

 _I just wanted to say that, should I not survive this, I would like you to have Arzhela. The bow I finished. You know the one. You brought her here for me and thanks to that, you helped me finish it. I'm grateful for all of it...everything. And I know you will not treat her like a decoration. If I cannot hold her and use her like she was meant to, there is no one else I'd like to keep her more than you._

 _Please, do not tell mother about the purge. I know that's a lot to ask...and it's not fair to mother, but Merrill I can't let her watch me die. You understand that, right?_

 _Listen... I know I don't say it enough. But I love you. It's a shitty way to say it, not in person. But if tomorrow is my last day, my only wish is for you not to have my death burned into your mind, like Carver's was to me. I don't wish that on my worst enemy. So please, don't come. Stay away._

 _You once told me you didn't know why I love you. To be honest, that should be my question. Why you love me...I can't hazard a guess. Why such a warm, kind, and ridiculously funny woman wants anything to do with a frigid stick in the mud who couldn't even muster up the courage to write to you until now...maybe miracles do exist. But...if I survive, I promise you. I will try better. I want to change that part of me, the part that is me not trusting you, or anyone else, or myself, to stick with me when I'm hurt. I get that seems contradictory, since I literally just told you not to come to see me during the purge, but that's for the other reason, not because of the usual one._

 _I promise to be a better partner. But if I'm not here, I can only hope that this letter is a step towards that._

 _So...I'll make my feelings clear. I love you, Merrill. There is no one else I want. I want to be beside you for the rest of my life. And if you need me to say that everyday, I will._

 _Even in front of people._

 _Even nobles._

 _Even that turd Seneshal Bran if I have to._

 _Javeen_

 _PS. Tell everyone...thanks. For staying by my side. Tell them...I'll buy them alcohol if I come back. That should be a shock enough to gather them all._

She took a deep breath and folded the letter up neatly inside an envelope, sealing it well with wax. She glanced outside, and was surprised to find out that the sun had gone down. The letter had taken hours to write. She sighed, then took the letter to the only messenger hawk the qunari kept for keeping in touch with the antaam who left for missions. It also knew to fly to the main aviary where all messenger birds were kept in Kirkwall, though it almost never went there. The Qunari weren't big on communication with the outside. Still, it would get the job done, someone would attach her letter to another bird, and off it would be sent to Hawke manor. Merrill would probably get the letter in the afternoon, at the earliest.

She watched the hawk disappear into the night sky. A wave of unease washed through her as she could no longer stop that letter from getting to its destination. She took a deep breath and shook her head. Too late for regrets now. _You finally did something right._

* * *

The healer advised her not to eat anything before the purge. No breakfast was given to her as she passed through after her meditations. The Arishok had said nothing more to her that morning, no good luck, nothing. That was not a complaint, it was oddly comforting to have him say nothing more. He believed she would live through it, so why say something unnecessary?

She couldn't be sure that was his way of thinking, but she chose to believe it.

The healer's tent was cleared. Many of the soldiers had recovered by now, and the remaining were relocated for today. Though Joanna still hovered by the entrance, worry etched into every part of her face.

"Hawke-"

Javeen patted her shoulder. "You're going to be fine. What happens today won't change that."

Joanna laughed, shaking her head. "That's my line!"

Javeen took a deep breath as she entered the tent, a table she had only seen set up in the back, where the healer tended to his various potions and medicinal concoctions was placed in the middle of the tent. It was small and lean, only big enough to fit one person on it. Two Saarebas stood solemnly with one handler, while the healer nodded for her to come inside. There was no smile on his face, no sarcasm, no humour. He had rope in his hand. "If you are ready," he said slowly, "then lay on the table."

Javeen cracked a weak smile. "Isabela read a book like this once out loud. Though it was for a very different situation. With a very different ending."

The healer's eyes narrowed.

"I...that was the nerves speaking. I promise I will never make a joke like that again."

"The mighty Hawke makes sex jokes when she's nervous. There are many layers to you, my friend."

"Oh my god, shut it." Javeen quickly laid down on the table, her ears burning stupidly. "Let's get this done."

The healer nodded, beginning the process of tying her down to the table. He kept it tight, but certainly not so tight that it made marks or cut off her circulation. Javeen imagined it would be a bad idea to have her blood cut off from her brain while bloodmagic was being forcefully purged out of her system. When he was finished, he reached somewhere she couldn't see and brought forth a long cloth, hovering it over her head.

"So you do not bite your tongue."

Oh. She leaned her head up as he shoved the cloth into her mouth, tying it carefully around the back of her head. If Isabela were here...she'd have a million jokes about this. It actually helped, thinking about Isa and her raunchy jokes, making their friends laugh and groan. She continued to think of them all as the healer placed both his hands on the sides of her face, keeping her head steady on the table. The Saarebas approached. She thought of Fenris' half-hearted scowl as Varric once again beat him at poker, of Aveline confidently giving out orders to her guardsmen, of Anders' small smile when a patient leaves cured, Bethany twirling her staff around expertly and smiling as she should, Isa pulling up a seat next to her, inviting Javeen in even though she never drinks. Her mother's laughter as Sandal brings her flowers from the garden he picked.

The Saarebas's hands began to glow.

Merrill's face in the sun, making her want to trace her tattoos with a finger.

Then..then it began.

The healer had to use all of his strength to keep her down. The rope pulled to its limits as Javeen's body convulsed, and she nearly knocked a tooth out slamming her jaw together to keep a scream inside. Instantly, there were no more thoughts in her head, no more picturing her friends and lover to comfort her. Instinct took over, and her body wanted nothing more than to get away from the blue light that was causing her the worst agony it had ever felt. She thrashed in her bonds, so violently that even with the healer's strength she twisted. Maker, she could feel it. The bloodmagic, like steel edged sandpaper running through her veins, her muscles. It wanted to stay.

Her injuries, that were once nearly healed, opened again under the terrible thrashing she could not help. Her broken rib that was on the mend snapped, the sharp edge of the break going through skin. She briefly heard the healer's voice, now with a dose of panic, command the Saarebas' holder to help keep her still. That was not his duty, but he did it anyway.

Even Javeen could not hold the scream down forever. The noise rippled throughout the Compound like a battlefield. It shook Joanna so badly she covered her ears, the poor girl still right there in front of the tent. Camlen, shaky and green in the face, took her by the shoulders.

"Come on, away from here," he said gently, pulling her away, "Hawke doesn't need you right here. C'mon, Jo."

The Mashaar looked up from her work, staring in the direction of the healer's tent. Her mouth tightened and she swallowed a lump in her throat. She continued to chop the vegetables she had started before all this, slowly and no where near as precise as she always was. A large clawed hand covered hers, her second nodding for her to go. For once, she didn't argue, and left her post.

Inside the war tent, Kaaras and the Arishok planned the next route for supplies, when they heard it too. Kaaras paused, holding his map reading tools carefully. His eye wandered to his leader's face, still composed...and yet. Distracted. Before Kaaras could say anything, the Arishok closed his eyes and dismissed him. Kaaras' brow raised in surprise, these meetings were never cut short, but regardless, he obeyed. He went to find the Mashaar, the only place where he needed to be now.

The Arishok let out a long breath, leaning his hands against the large table covered with maps. He couldn't focus. Something that only happened in his youth, long before he became the Arishok. Even as he slowed his breathing, tried to clear his mind, all that he could hear and see was Hawke. Once thought of as a nuisance, but now...

Difficult to define. She was difficult to define. He could usually so easily separate those who were his own in this place, and who did not belong. But she fit here so quickly, had the will to learn. She trusted him completely, and he found himself trusting her too. Unheard of. How could someplace like Kirkwall have someone like Hawke?

And why would she not join the Qun?

Another scream. He opened his eyes, frustrated that he could not work. Frustrated that Hawke was so vexing. That her death would feel like a significant loss, even though she was not Qunari. How she managed to keep him, the Arishok, from his duty. Ridiculous. He didn't even acknowledge that he had already left his war tent, moving towards the healer's.

But there he stayed, until it was over.


	12. Flame

When Javeen woke up, she was sitting in front of her father.

He was sitting as well, leaned over the wheel that once belonged to him, now her. He was making another vase for mother, since Carver broke the last one he made her. Smoke drifted up from his pipe as he worked, calm and focused. He didn't look up at her when he spoke.

"You almost done?" he asked.

Javeen, the same age as she was now- which was impossible, completely absurd- blinked at him. He died so long ago. She was barely out of teenagerhood when he passed. This had to be a dream, right? "Done what?"

"Being asleep. There are a lot of people waiting for you."

Javeen flexed her hands. "Am I asleep? Why are you here?"

Malcolm chuckled softly. "Who knows? Dreams are funny. Or maybe I convinced the Maker to see you one last time."

Her eyes narrowed. "You weren't that religious when you were alive."

"Not on the outside, no." He lifted the wet clay up in his hands, forming a perfect neck. He took a ribbon tool from nowhere and started smoothing out all the excess mud. "I see you've made friends with some unexpected people."

She shrugged. "You got something to say about it?"

"Only to be careful. You're in the middle of a squabble, my girl. Protecting both will be hard."

Javeen's jaw tightened. "I can do it."

"Can you?" Finally Malcolm looked up from his work, boring dark brown eyes into her unnatural blue ones. "After all that?"

The question shook her to her core. Old habits pushed through her brain, doubt clawed at the very centre of her heart. But then the words of her letter to Merrill surrounded both of them, circling around them like a tornado. Wind blew through her hair as she looked up at them, finding her resolve. "With them, I can."

Malcolm smiled, placing an impossibly clean hand on her cheek. Javeen reached for him, such touches never initiated in real life. But before she could hold him, he was gone. Disappeared along with the spiral of words. "Wait..." she said to nothing. "Carver? Are you here too?" She stood up, looking around the empty space, frantic in her movement. "If you're here, say something! Please. SAY SOMETHI-"

She woke with a long breath. Her eyes narrowed at the bright light of the tent, the sun up high in the sky. A familiar numbness that could only come from the healer's very potent numbing potions kept her from moving too quickly, exhaustion making it impossible. Though she could feel deep pangs of hunger as well. How long had she been out?

She took several deep breaths, trying to move her arm. It was slow, frustrating work, but she managed to place her hand on her chest to feel fresh, tight bandages wrapped around her entire torso. She could not feel pain at the moment, but even as incapacitated as she was during the purge, just from touching the bandages she knew her injuries were grave. But she was alive. She lived. The venom was gone.

She relaxed, sinking into the cot further as the tension in her left. Still, she was unsettled thanks to that dream. It really felt like she had talked to father again, but that was impossible. She wasn't deeply religious and the Maker did her no favours. But she had to admit...hearing his voice again...it was nice. She hadn't realized just how much she wanted to hear it again, even if it was fake. If only Carver had been...

No, she had to stop that. They were gone. She should not cling to sentimental hallucinations, it would not serve her well. Thankfully, the healer came up beside her, providing a good distraction.

He placed the back of his hand against her forehead. "You are awake. How to you feel?"

"Numb," she said truthfully, her voice raspy from thirst. "But...good. I'm good."

The healer's smile was gentle, and he nodded. "It is good to see you well, Hawke."

Javeen returned the smile. "Don't get too mushy on me now, healer." She groaned as she tried to sit up. The healer helped carefully. "How long was I out?"

"Two days." He reached for a canteen of water attached to his belt, holding it up to her. "Slowly. Do not drink too much."

Javeen gulped back a few swings, exhaling deeply once she was done. "Did anything happen while I asleep?" she asked. Like perhaps a rampaging mother trying to get inside the compound to kill her daughter for good? Javeen would simultaneously love and be terrified of that.

The healer hesitated, his back turned to her as he prepared another numbing potion for her. "There is...something. At the moment, Joanna's mother is here."

It felt like a cold dagger had been plunged into her chest. "What."

"She demanded to speak to her yesterday, and it was only this morning the Arishok allowed it. The woman is at the front dais now, and Joanna-"

Javeen didn't hear the rest. She shot out of bed with speed only possible by pure adrenaline unhindered by venom. She heard the healer's flat, disappointed call in the distance, but she didn't care. If Lacrissa was here, Joanna was not safe. Oh physically, she would be fine, if the Arishok deigned to protect her, but mentally? Not many people could face their attempted murderer's, especially not if they were their mother as well.

She ignored the warning signs her body was sending her to stop, acknowledging she would be feeling this later. But all she could think of right now was Joanna. She deserved better than this.

She had no strength to call for her as the dais came into sight, but just as she was about to start up the steps, an insistent hand grabbed her arm and kept her in place. The healer's furious eyes locked with hers, but then they turned to watch what was happening too. He cared for Joanna just as much as she did.

Javeen's sight went red as it locked onto the famously terrible mother. Lacrissa, done up in stupidly expensive silks, pale skin and long ribbons of blonde hair, had an expression of nervous kindness. A lie, then. She had her hands together in an almost prayer, pleading with her daughter. Who, at the moment wore a neutral face, at least as much as she could muster. Lacrissa was flanked by two guards, likely the very same that went on that "trip" with Joanna.

"-don't have to stay. Please, come home, my darling. We miss you so much!"

Joanna said nothing. She just stared with her one eye.

Lacrissa's smile grew ever the more strained. "I-I am grateful that you've been taken care of, but really, you should be recovering with your family. Don't you want to see your brothers?"

Finally, Joanna spoke. "You mean your eventual co-conspirators?"

Watching Lacrissa feign shock made Javeen want to rush back to Arzhela for her first target practice. "Joanna," the noblewoman pleaded, "please. You are confused. It's understandable, from what happened. But you fell. It was an accident. We-we couldn't reach you in time before those...those beasts attacked. I too needed to recover-"

"Unfortunately for you," Joanna interrupted, the one eye blazing so fiercely it made Javeen proud, "I remember everything."

And there it was. A flicker of loathing crossed Lacrissa's face for only a second. But not quick enough for Javeen to miss. Oh, it was so on.

"Joanna," Lacrissa seethed, but she was holding it back, "you cannot stay here. It isn't safe."

"It is. It's the safest place I'll ever be." Joanna smiled at the Arishok. "Because I'm Qunari."

Silence. Complete silence. The look on Lacrissa's face, hell on _Javeen's_ face, was enough to write a play about. Slowly, the Arishok rose from his throne, towering over the new addition to the Compound easily, but she wasn't afraid of him. Not anymore. The Arishok regarded Lacrissa like she was an insect, looking down on her with a curled lip and disgusted eyes. "You have your answer human," he said, voice deep with threat, "now leave. There is nothing for you here."

Lacrissa stepped forward, face flushed with rage, but stopped when two of the antaam also moved. The two guards Lacrissa brought with her took her shoulder, keeping their other hands on the hilts of their weapons. But she stopped. Her teeth scraped her upper lip as she contemplated. Then she nodded in defeat. "Fine, then. You made your choice." Her eyes narrowed. "It breaks my heart to lose my daughter. Your father would be saddened to know you abandoned us."

Joanna shot back a glare. "Vashedan."

Javeen couldn't help but smile. Camlen must have taught her that word.

Lacrissa whirled around and promptly left the Compound, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster. Joanna let out a breath, and once she noticed that Javeen was there, beamed and rushed over. "Hawke! You're awake!"

"Yeah," she nodded, "and you're...Qunari."

Joanna smiled, and it was the happiest smile she'd seen on her yet. "Mm. It might seem too soon but...it feels right."

"Wisdom does not always need time," the healer said, his eyes proud. "Come, viddithari. I have a patient who needs to return to bed."

Javeen at this point was too weakened to protest being literally dragged by an impatient healer and his now assistant, but eh. She wouldn't have struggled that hard anyway. There was no shadow of doubt or dread that came from Joanna's decision. Most would be horrified that the Qunari gained yet another, but there were no such feelings in her.

Javeen glanced at the Arishok, who was watching them with mild amusement. He nodded to her when their eyes locked. Javeen couldn't help a smile of her own as she nodded back.

* * *

The assassin yawned, bored out of his mind. At least he was getting paid to wait around, but Maker. He wished he had at least brought some cards or something. All he had to wait for was to see the girl with her mother, and the plan was a go. Find a giant, kill it, and then finish the job. It was convoluted, but whatever. The money was good. His guildmaster would be happy, and so long as he pleased that bastard, life would be good for a long time after.

He rolled his eyes as the woman returned loudly, slamming the expensive door and rattling the chandelier above. He kinda hoped it would fall. At least that would be entertaining. He peered at the commotion from high above, leaning against the rail of the balcony of the staircase. He saw the mistress and her two guards...and no girl to be found. Well, then. He could stop hiding in the shadows.

"It didn't go well, I take it?" he asked, amused.

"You." Lacrissa snarled. "You will not speak."

The assassin shrugged. He wasn't being paid to speak, so why waste his breath?

"Damn that girl," she raved, pulling at her hair, "when did she find a backbone? And now she's a heathen? Damn it!"

She ripped off an expensive bracelet and threw it at the wall, shattering an innocent vase into a million shards.

The two guards exchanged a look, but remained silent.

Lacrissa took a shaky breath, calming herself. "No. No. This can still work." She turned to the assassin. "You will proceed with the plan."

"Why steal a weapon from a dead qunari, when it would be easier to wait for the girl herself to come out? I've studied the patterns, they don't stay behind those walls forever. If you're worried about it being linked back to you, do not worry. The Crows are good at what we do."

Her lip curled. "No. You must get that weapon. The Qunari must be blamed. The Viscount is useless when it comes to those beasts. They will never be driven out the way things are." She smiled. "But what do you think we'll do when a young girl, naive in her choices, finds the brutal people she joined murdered her in cold blood? Do you think I, Lacrissa Linett, would stand for such a thing?"

Ah. So it was more about recognition then removing a troublesome stain. He had a lot of experience with those kinds of jobs too. "Very well," he nodded, "it will be done."

"See that it does," Lacrissa snarled, suddenly fierce. "I have already wasted enough gold paying those failures on the Wounded Coast. Tch. If only I had known...I would have had their throats slit and had my pick of their weapons."

The assassin felt no pity for her, he just thought she was an idiot. But she was a rich idiot, and killing a few giants and then killing a teenager wasn't going to be that difficult when it was executed right. All he had to do was wait for the right moments. It would take time, but it could be done.

He disappeared into the shadows, a skill second nature to him.

Lacrissa dismissed her guards, heading upstairs to her room. She took off all her heavy jewelry, undid the complicated hairstyle. She sighed as she looked into the mirror, noticing the bags under her eyes. She didn't lose. Not yet. She still could do this.

She did, after all, have the Chantry's blessing.


	13. Eyes

Apologies on the late chapter-I was on vacation! Enjoy :)

* * *

"You realize this would go much faster if you allowed the Saarebas to-"

"Yeah. I know." Javeen sighed as she winced while the healer changed her bandages. It had been a week since the purge, and her body ached. Part of that was her fault. She was so eager to move around again like she used to and she was pushing herself too far. As she was wont to do, unfortunately. But, she had not let magic heal her. Yet. "Not their fault but...still not ready to face their magic yet. Still fresh, I guess."

The healer nodded. "That seems common from survivors." He grinned. "Or perhaps you are delaying your inevitable departure from here."

"Pfft. You wish."

"We all do." The healer finished off the last bit of tying and adjusting, handing her a clean shirt. "Still. It is a relief to see you heal at a normal rate."

Javeen swallowed a lump in her throat. _We all do._ Now that the venom was gone...Javeen really had to start thinking about leaving. Going back to her old life. She missed everyone of course, her companions and family...but here. Here was special. She couldn't deny that anymore, she felt an ease here that she hadn't felt anywhere else. She didn't have to be Kirkwall's lapdog in here. She put her shirt on slowly, and silently.

"Ah, viddathari," the healer said, "please dispose of these bandages, and bring Hawke's concoction."

Javeen turned to find a smiling Joanna take the old bandages happily, nodding to them both. Clad in new clothes that the rest of the viddathari wore, short sleeved red tunics with simple pants and belt. And a single golden earring, given on the day they became Qunari. "Yes, healer!"

A smile curved the corner of Javeen's lips, barely noticeable. "How is she doing?" she asked when Joanna was out of earshot.

"Well enough. Her injuries at this point are mere scratches." He paused, looking in the direction she left. "But her eye...it will not recover."

The small smile vanished. It was expected, so the news did not surprise her...but still. Joanna wasn't going to take it well. And why should she? That eye was taken from her thanks to her mother. "Does she know?"

"She suspects. I am confirming it today."

As Javeen clenched her teeth and her face pinched in concern, the healer chuckled. "She will be fine," he said, "she is Qunari."

"Only for a week," Javeen pointed out.

"Irrelevant. She will find the differences between human society and the Qun enough to prepare her."

Before Javeen could question him further, Joanna returned with a worried smile. "Prepare me for what?"

The two fell silent, until the healer turned to Javeen and nodded his head towards the exit. Yeah. This was a private conversation. Without a word, Javeen left the tent, with a growingly concerned Joanna watching her leave.

Javeen took a deep breath of air as she stepped out of the tent, putting it out of mind for now. She was not helping Joanna by acting like something was wrong. The only thing she could do was let her take in the news, and then ask what she needed later. At that thought, she barely noticed a huge group of qunari marching towards the gates. She turned her attention to the most familiar face leading said group.

"Kaaras," she called.

He turned his head towards her, and nodded. He commanded his followers to continue moving, and made his way over to her. "Bird of Prey."

That nickname he gave her was so weirdly satisfying. Nicknames generally were supposed to be shorter than the given name, but that wasn't the point of his nicknames, he said. When Javeen pointed out that his nickname for the Mashaar was shorter than hers, he only smiled. Javeen still didn't know what 'Kadan' meant. The translation wasn't in her books.

"Off on another supply run?"

"Yes," he nodded, "we have been tasked to collect as many resources as we can in a place known to Kirwall as...the Bone Pit? An odd name."

Javeen laughed. "Wait till you see it, then you'll get it. Want some advice?"

"A bold question. Does the antaam usually take advice from outsiders?"

"No, but I sleep in your home. Am I still an outsider?"

They both immediately thought of the bow stand Kaaras brought her the day she completed Arzhela. A stupid question.

"Speak your advice, friend."

"Watch out for dragons. They have a tendency to keep coming back."

Kaaras shook his head. "I am unsurprised that you've been involved with such creatures multiple times."

Javeen shrugged. "I'm busy."

"That is so." He nodded a thanks. "Your warning is appreciated Hawke."

She called for him as he left. "And if you happen to cross some humans working there, just tell them you're friends with me. I happen to own half of that place, so they shouldn't give you any trouble. See you when you get back."

Javeen watched them as they left the Compound, holding back the feeling of unrest that she could not join them. She missed going out and doing tasks. She liked being here, and it was the only place where she could actually get her own work done, but she did miss the...the. Ugh. Javeen sighed. The 'adventures' she would constantly go on. She could imagine Varric's smug smile if he knew she had called it that, telling his stupid tales of the heroic Hawke he so loved to create. She was no hero. She just got by.

Still. It was only a matter of time. She'd heal up and go back to her old life. She stood there lost in thought, wondering if there was a way to have both.

She could not think of one.

* * *

The Compound settled into evening as it did every night; a switch from daytime watchers to nighttime, the lighting of red lanterns, and the echo of deep conversation as qunari gathered around to eat supper together. Javeen usually ate with Kaaras, sometimes Joanna when she wasn't in the healer's tent, and ever rarer, the Arishok when he managed to eat in time with the rest. But since Kaaras was still on his mission, Camlen wandered over to an alone Javeen, sipping the last of her soup.

"Aw, all alone today, Hawke?"

Javeen shot him a warning glare as she finished. Camlen put his hands up in defence at the look in her piercing blue eyes. Then he sat beside her, shaking his head.

"Only you can make that actually intimidating." He made his hands into mock claws. "The scary soup sip!"

"What do you want."

"Nothing. Just bored. Haven't seen Jo all day." He stretched out his legs. "Have you seen her?"

Javeen paused, unsure if she should tell him. It would come out soon anyway, and maybe if she told him now he wouldn't be inclined to say something accidentally insensitive. Normally, Javeen wouldn't care about words, but right now, Joanna was especially vulnerable. "She's-"

"Here," a familiar voice said behind them. Joanna, with a reddened eye looking exhausted, smiled at them. "I'm here."

She sat next to her best friend, who grinned as he leaned back in his seat. "Well, look who showed up today. The healer giving you all the work now?"

"Half the work," she laughed, "and the news that I'm going to be half blind for the rest of my life. It was a busy day of halves."

The humour died quickly. Camlen sat up quickly, looking as if he committed a crime. "Jo, I'm sor-"

"Don't be." She shook her head. "Weirdly, being put to work immediately after...helped a little. A lot. I wasn't trapped in my head, because I was too busy." She smiled nervously. "But now that I'm not...it's hard not to... to think about anything else."

Javeen noticed the Arishok emerge from his tent, intent on completing the basic need of food, she assumed. It gave her an idea. "What's the biggest concern that you have?"

Joanna stared at the floor. "I just-I don't want...losing the eye is bad enough but, I just want to be a part of this place with no problems, a-and I'm certainly more of a bother if I can't see properly!"

"What, you think the qunari'll kick you out because you can't see out of one eye?" Javeen asked, watching the Arishok come closer.

Joanna shut her eye tight. "I-I guess I am."

"Joanna, that's-" Camlen began.

"I thought as much," Javeen interrupted as the Arishok brushed past. "Hey, Arishok! The newest viddathari thinks she won't be accepted because of her eye. Come over here and tell her that's dumb and not how the Qun works."

"Hawke-!" Joanna squeaked, her eye wide and moving back and forth between Javeen and the Arishok rapidly.

The Arishok turned with a scowl, eyes narrowed at the non-qunari that just gave him an order. "You do not command me, Hawke."

"I humbly request you tell Joanna she's wrong."

The Arishok made a curt noise in his throat, indicating approval. Barely approval. Then he shifted his attention fully onto the new viddathari, the news of her condition definitely having reached his ears before this. There was no comfort in his eyes, his tone still the same, and for that Javeen was glad. No pity was better.

"You hold the human belief that value diminishes depending on your condition," he said. "That certain duties are somehow lesser than others. Those beliefs have no weight here, nor should they anywhere. Throw them away."

Joanna gulped, nodding slightly and trying to regain her voice. She managed a quiet "Yes, Arishok."

Camlen attempted to lighten the mood. "And hey. If you really want another eye, just ask Hawke for one of her's. I'm sure she'll be fine, cause she'll use the third eye she definitely has somewhere."

"You don't want one of my eyes," Javeen said calmly, "you'll still go blind."

There was a pause. The qunari stared at her in different forms of shock. But of all of them, it was the Arishok who demanded an answer. "Explain," was all he said, in his commanding voice.

Javeen never told this story to her companions. Mostly because they didn't ask, but then, how could they know? They never asked why her eyes are such a shocking blue, maybe because they assumed father had it too and they never met him. The only two people who knew this story was mother and Bethany. And it hurt them, so they never told it either.

She sighed. "When I was a kid," she began, "I was...desperate. For strength. Improving myself, so that I could protect my family better. I looked for anything that could make me better than I was. One day, a strange caravan with strange people came through where we lived, offering enchantments for people to buy. There were the normal enchantments for weapons and clothing and whatnot, but to me they sold...one for my body."

Body enchantment was notoriously risky. There were some that were absolutely necessary and proven to be safe, but it was still such unknown territory that it invited inexperience and promises that weren't true. A well known fact amongst all cultures.

"I asked for an enchantment to improve my eyes. I wanted to be able to see such long distances that nothing would be hidden from me. We'd been recently attacked by highwaymen, and I..." She paused, shaking her head. They barely survived that attack. The twins were too young to fight, and father...there was a limit to what he could do and keep his magic a secret. "I wanted to help. The merchants said they had something that could help. And so I paid. Gave them all the money I had."

She brushed her fingers under one eye. "It's lyrium. Liquid lyrium. That's why they look the way they do. Lyrium floating inside them, supposed to enhance my eyesight. Of course, it doesn't do that. Barely does anything at all."

"W-what does it do?" Camlen asked.

Javeen shrugged. "Slightly increases the potency of healing magic. Sometimes it helps the enchantments I use for my weapons. On such a small scale it's barely noticeable." Then, she scoffed. "So stupid. I was told later that having lyrium in my eyes is a guaranteed street to blindness. Eventually."

"Hawke..." Joanna breathed, "I'm so sorry."

Javeen waved her apology away. "Do not. It's not going to happen tomorrow, or even in a few years. It's slow. I'll probably be an old lady by the time my eyesight is gone." A young old lady. But whatever. "This was not about me. What did we learn today?"

"Um...that the Qun...uses everyone no matter their condition? It wastes nothing?" Joanna asked.

"Correct," the Arishok said, though he was still staring at Javeen intently.

"And not to trust random caravans selling body crap?" Camlen added.

"Correct," Javeen nodded, "only trust yourself and your abilities." She paused. "...and the people you can trust too."

After a moment of silence, the Arishok rumbled a command. "Return to your posts, viddathari."

The two obeyed immediately, though Javeen could see Joanna's confused shrug at Camlen as they left. Javeen sighed when they were out of earshot. "What, am I in trouble for giving out advice?"

The Arishok continued to stare. Just as Javeen was about to tell him to get on with it, he spoke. "Women are often educators in the Qun."

"Okay...?" Javeen raised an eyebrow. She thought he was done bringing this up. But then, she was set to leave soon, wasn't she? Did he really think about that enough to weigh on his mind?

"You have the skill. You have many skills." High praise, coming from him, the super general. Then his lip curled. "And yet, you waste it here."

Oh. So he _was_ chiding her. She knew he wasn't referring to the Compound. "Look, I know I can't change your mind, so I'm just going to skip it, but don't insult me by saying all my efforts are a waste." Javeen stood up. "All the work I finished, all the goods I've given to those in need, all the beasts I've removed to save lives. None of it was for nothing."

"It would be better served under the Qun." He didn't sound angry...it sounded somewhat defeated. In the subtlest way possible. "You are a true basalit-an."

And then he left. Javeen dove deep into her brain to translate what he called her, but she wasn't sure. Bas was the word for foreigner...but that was as far as she knew. Her jaw tightening, she went to the healer's tent.

The healer was busy with his duties, but he couldn't help a half grin as he noticed her there in the corner of the tent. "You look as if you are constipated. I do have a potion for that."

She ignored his dumb quip. "The Arishok just called me basalit-an, and I want to know if he called me a stubborn asshole or something."

The healer paused, then nearly dropped the potion in his hand as he doubled over in laughter. His laughter was deep and thunderous, drawing the attention of every viddathari, every last patient inside the tent. Javeen's face strained as she waited and waited for him to stop. She folded her arms across her chest, tapping her arm with her fingers. Finally, after too long, his laughter died down.

"Are you done?" Javeen hissed.

"Basalit-an." The healer wiped a tear from him eye. "A foreigner worthy of respect. Worthy to follow. But in your case, my friend, it can also mean stubborn asshole. The meanings are not mutually exclusive."

Normally, Javeen would have a comeback for that last part...but she didn't even acknowledge it. Her mind was stuck on the meaning. Basalit-an had to be the greatest compliment to receive as a non-Qunari. Worthy of respect...worthy to follow. She should be overjoyed that the Arishok thought so highly...but the way he said it. With that subtle tone of defeat.

Because the word was only for outsiders.

The Arishok had finally accepted that she would not join. And that...that did not make her happy. Nor did she feel relieved. Or any of the things she should be feeling. His massive respect for her was just another barrier. It hurt that perhaps the only reason why he bothered with her at all was the hope that she would convert, and not because... he thought of her as a friend.

But if...if she could be a benefit to the Qun...

Javeen rushed out of the tent. She didn't hear the confused exclamations from the healer. She ran through the compound, jumped over obstacles, marvelling at the movement. She found the Arishok in conversation with the Mashaar, speaking of supplies needed for meals. The Mashaar made an alarmed look at the rushing Javeen, and the Arishok turned his head.

"Do you buy needed things from merchants in Kirkwall?" Javeen asked, not taking a breath.

The Mashaar glanced up at the Arishok, confusion plastered all over her face. The Arishok narrowed his eyes. "...yes."

Javeen grinned. "Then! Then, Arishok, I have a business proposal. When I finish my purpose here, when the debt is paid, you can buy my services."

The Arishok frowned. "We do not need your artisan crafts. Nor do we need your weapons."

She shook her head. "Not that. My teaching ability. I can teach you how to interact with Kirkwall."

His brow raised. "Explain."

"The Mashaar is here to help you understand humans better. And she does it well, no question." Javeen opened her arms in a big gesture, her grin growing bigger and bigger. "But Kirkwall! Kirkwall is special, right?"

"That is not the word I would use."

"Fine, then it's shitty! It's confusing as hell and backwards! It has so many problems it's impossible to predict! I can teach someone how to communicate with Kirkwall. You may not like it, but you _need_ to learn how to navigate this place if you have to stay here. Because, damn it Arishok, it's not working and you know it. I can minimize the struggle."

The Arishok was silent. She knew by that look his mind was ablaze with thought, considering, consulting, calculating. Just one more push. One more, and Javeen would be a part of this place even if for a little bit longer. She wasn't ready to say goodbye.

"The Qunari adapt. Sometimes, when something isn't working, you have to change it. The Qun knows this, and so do you. Communication is the key here. I know Kirkwall. I can help you."

"And...you wish to be a merchant for this exchange?"

"You said I had multiple skills. I can teach, and I can create goods, and I can sell it." Javeen swallowed a lump in her throat. "I can't join. That's why you called me basalit-an. But I have come to care for this compound more than I thought possible. I would like to aid you as much as I can, before you return to your home. This is the only way I know how."

The Mashaar gaped at this entire exchange, but smiled at her fellow human at what she said. "We are not all suited for such education..." she said slowly, "but...I can think of someone who would be."

Javeen nodded. "Kaaras."

A qunari who already has shown much progress in regards to interacting with humans...his politeness, his willingness to attempt human greetings and use the language, his gentle demeanour. He would be perfect. She couldn't imagine the navigator of the compound felt particularly useful without a ship. He did odd jobs here and there- planning, mapping, that sort of thing. He lead supply runs. Perhaps he could try navigating diplomacy.

"And what would you demand as payment?"

Javeen paused. She sure as hell didn't want money. Then, she smiled. "Access to the arena. I could use a new training routine."

The Arishok raised a brow. "An odd request."

"Well, I'm not going to ask you for something I don't need."

The Arishok regarded her with intense eyes. "I will consider it."

Hey. That wasn't nothing. She nodded her thanks as he moved on, his brow still borrowed in thought. The Mashaar snorted when he was out of earshot. "Only you can find a loophole Hawke."

"Hey, it's not a loophole if it's accepted, right?"

The Mashaar shook her head. "I suppose not." She glanced at her fellow human. "You realize he doesn't go through such mental leaps just to keep anyone around, right?"

Javeen nodded. "I hope I've proven worthy of that."

"You think you'd still be here if you hadn't?" She gave her a hard look. "...don't take advantage of it Hawke. Especially now that you're involving Kaaras."

Javeen shook her head. "I won't. I'm serious, I think the Compound will see improvement if there's some amiable communication from both sides. I know it's hard with Kirkwall being the way it is, but it's worth a shot."

Sighing, the Mashaar nodded. "Kaaras will no doubt agree."

"He's a good guy."

The Mashaar finally smiled again. "He is."

* * *

 _God fucking damned beasts what was I thinking taking this job?_

The assassin pulled the corpse out of the water, dripping seawater from all the places. Seawater mixed with a healthy dose of blood. The ambush hadn't gone as planned. He had to take the corpse with him off a cliff to shake off those damned oxmen. But even as he died, the qunari still had a dagger clenched in his hand. They were weird about their weapons.

Still, it was a good dagger, and obviously designed by Qunari, what with it being twice the size of a normal dagger and decorated with red and black jewels. It would get the job done. He rolled the body back into the water after weighing it down with stones. Then he concentrated on patching up.

He'd have to disappear for a while, as soon enough the qunari would swarm this place looking for them both. Nothing he hadn't done before. He gritted his teeth in pain as he quickly wrapped bandages around a mangled arm. And all the hired 'help' were dead too. He was going to demand extra.

When he was finished, he slipped into the shadows. He would take some time to heal, but it was time to return to that ugly hobble the qunari called home. That girl would leave it soon enough.

He smiled as he planned what he would enjoy first back in Antiva. The finest wine...or the finest poet?

He did not see why he couldn't enjoy both.


	14. The Arena

Just like in her fantasies, the sun poured heat onto her shoulders as Javeen circled her opponent in the arena. Thundering footsteps and voices echoed throughout the Compound, louder than ever for her. Dust billowed up around them, but that did not bother either participant. Both were focused on each other, their movements and their muscles. Javeen turned sideways.

She heard Camlen's one syllable laugh from the audience. _I can't teach you directly, kid, so pay attention._

She watched rippling muscles tense as her opponent charged forward, stepping away from clawed hands trying to grab her. She quickly retaliated with a kick, but the Ashaad blocked it with his arm. Using momentum, she pushed herself away and kept her defence up. Her body protested in places, it was not yet fully healed of course. She finally allowed Saarebas to use their magic, so she was feeling better than ever. But in other places her body sang, eager to continue and move. It had been too long. Javeen loved every minute of it.

No weapons were used in this fight, just a good old fashioned wrestling match. But without weapons, Javeen had to mind her position even more. Had she a weapon and gotten grabbed, she could escape much easier with much less injury. Were she to be grabbed now, escaping the grasp of a kossith was nearly impossible. She was strong, but it would cause more damage to herself in the end.

It would have to be her that grabbed him.

The Ashaad could guess her strategy easily enough, which was why he kept on the attack. If he kept this up and tired her out, he could easily catch her and then it would be over. It was time to retaliate.

She waited for that perfect opportunity, the halfway point of a carefully executed swing towards her. Instead of dodging away, she placed a hand on his shoulder, and using her best friend momentum, lifted herself off the ground. Legs wrapped around the Ashaad's neck, so quickly he had no time to fully process what was happening. While he tried, she grabbed his horns and twisted.

Obviously, she had the restraint to not break his neck, which is normally what she would do in this situation against an enemy. Still, the Ashaad grunted loudly in pain as the force of that twist knocked him to the ground. Javeen quickly shifted positions to not get crushed beneath him, still tightly wrapped around his neck and pressing her body weight into it. She did not let go of his horns. They were useful in so many situations and beautiful, but she was not above using them to win.

The Ashaad struggled to stand, and it took all of Javeen's strength to keep him pinned. Sweat poured down her temple as her muscles screamed, but she gritted her teeth. _Come on, I won._

For a full minute the two continued the fight for dominance, but the Ashaad eventually relented. The pounding of feet reached her ears from the people she had forgotten in the moment, and she quickly reached a hand down to help the Ashaad up. When he stood, he towered over her, but bended down so they could press their foreheads together in respect.

"Well fought, Ashaad," Javeen said.

"You did well, basalit-an."

In the thundering footsteps, Javeen couldn't help but grin as she heard the enthusiastic clapping of another spectator. Sitting on the steps just below the Arishok's dais was Merrill, visiting for the day and a most welcome sight. Even if she had been mad when she first arrived...

* * *

She held out a single sheet of paper. Javeen did not have to read it to know what it was, and why Merrill was frowning so deeply. She had sent a second letter, after she awoke the first time after the purge. Nothing like the first letter where Javeen had poured out her heart in an embarrassingly long winded mess. She just had to let them all know that she lived. And that's what she wrote in the second letter.

 _I lived._

 _Javeen_

"Ma'vhenan..." Merrill sighed, her head tilted in an uncharacteristically disappointed way, "really?"

It had taken some time for Merrill to arrive, as she had been busy with her...project at home, but now she was here. And Maker, Javeen had missed her. It wasn't until she had stepped inside with a furrowed brow, with her perfect green eyes and short hair that was styled different now, the light of day reflecting off the white armour she wore, that Javeen felt a deep pang in her stomach as well as relief that she was alive in this moment. There she was: the love of her life.

"Hey," was all she could muster, breathless and smiling.

Merrill paused, her big eyes piercing through Javeen. And while the anger did not fully go away, Merrill smiled too, and folded the letter back up and put it in her pocket. She was alive. Hawke was alive. She reached over and smoothed a strand of hair away from Javeen's lyrium eyes, and then bent down to capture her in a big hug.

Javeen was of course someone who kept her personal affairs as private as possible, not for shame reasons but because she believed it was no one's goddamn business. Not anymore. Not after her first letter. She was going to be better. And neither cared that the qunari were watching.

* * *

There may have been a bit of swagger in her step as Javeen made her way back to Merrill, grinning as she leaned against the steps in a lounge fashion. It had been so long since she felt this physically good. Blood pumping, sweat beading, a wonderful soreness in her limbs...this was bliss. She wanted to go again, but there was structure to the arena, and would have to wait to be challenged. Standard protocol to someone who still was injured.

"You were wonderful," Merrill gushed, "it's so good to see you back to normal!"

"Nearly normal," Javeen nodded, "but not one hundred percent. If I was all the way back, that match would have been a bit quicker."

A displeased snort was heard above them. The Arishok leaned on one hand on his throne, eyeing the two women with a scowl. "The Ashaad fought well. Do not diminish his abilities."

"I'm not," Javeen said, "he fought very well. I do think he lacks the experience of someone grabbing his horns though."

"He lacks the experience of fighting someone the size of a child."

Merrill covered the laughing gasp that tried to escape her, as Javeen turned her head slowly towards the Arishok. Fake rage -although not _entirely_ fake- narrowed her eyes and stiffened her jaw. "How dare you."

A slight smug smile curled the corner of his lips. "It is your advantage- for now."

"Those are fighting words Arishok," Javeen grinned, "what would Kaaras say?"

She was joking about the peaceful qunari who might argue with the Arishok to keep him from destroying his friend- but truth be told, Kaaras hadn't said much after returning from the supply run from the Bone Pit. She was worried about him. His usual calm, smiling face hadn't been present at all. He took the loss hard.

* * *

The Mashaar was always first to greet her mate when he returned, something she allowed as she never neglected her duties to do it. She always worked twice as fast when it was time. This time, Javeen felt like greeting them too. She wanted to know if they met any of the workers at the Bone Pit, and how that interaction went with her advice.

But as the scouting group returned, the Mashaar shifted. "Something is wrong."

She was right. This was not the return of successful gatherers, they were beaten and solemn. Most outsiders would say they are always solemn, but that was not true. But this time...it may not be to the scale the last time the qunari were ambushed, but the feeling was identical.

The Mashaar rushed forward when Kaaras stomped through, and no longer was he the calm man Javeen knew him to be. His jaw hard, eyes blazing in anger, he barely noticed his mate there to greet him. It wasn't until she called him 'kadan' that his eyes widened and he looked down to his love, and his face lost his anger, replaced with grief.

They lost one man. Ambushed by an unknown party. The Taarbas, the one who did inventory and was tasked to find the weapons of fallen antaam, found nothing. That was the difference. The scale had been larger last time, but the weapons had all been accounted for, for the living and dead. They could not mourn the fallen properly without it. Even if they had recovered the body, which they hadn't and even if they did they would have left it behind anyway, they still could not complete funeral rites without the tool, without the physical embodiment of the soul.

Kaaras was questioned briefly by the Arishok, and no mention of Javeen's plan met his ears. It was not the right time. He was given a few days to recover before it was brought up.

And even polite, curious, wonderful Kaaras hesitated to say yes.

* * *

The Arishok stood from his throne. "He would say that all the antaam lacks that experience. Even I."

Javeen's eyes widened. "What's this, a personal flaw spoken by the Arishok himself? Madness."

A noise escaped the Arishok's nose, and his eyes narrowed. "You will be useful. Come."

A smile crept up on Javeen. "You're challenging me?"

"I will not repeat myself."

She sprang up from the steps, her eagerness unmasked. "You don't need to."

Controlled excitement rippled down the line on qunari who realized their leader was stepping into the ring. Could Javeen beat their leader? Maybe, if she played her cards right. Hell, she would say she had a good chance. No one was unbeatable.

But once the two stood in that arena, the rest of the world stopped existing. Just her and her good friend, the general. He was good on his word, as expected. When Kaaras agreed to be taught by her, the arena was immediately opened to her. To be challenged by him now was nothing more than a sign of mutual friendship and respect. You never fought someone in here that you were angry with.

And she was going to do her best to shove her good friend's face into the dirt.

* * *

Javeen sat at her wheel, trimming her latest work as she listened to Merrill's endless recap of the going ons that she missed. Merrill smiled sheepishly when she realized how long she had been talking. "Sorry. I'm babbling. You can't still be listening."

Javeen glanced at her, a small smile on her face. "Every word."

Merrill's eyes widened and she blushed so deeply that she quickly covered her cheeks with her hands. With a contented sign, Javeen moved her eyes back to her work, her smile not leaving. Merrill studied her intently, drinking in the details of her lover that she missed...and some things that were different. "You really are not angry, are you?"

Javeen brushed away flakes of dried clay with her thumb. "Angry at what?"

"That you lost the fight."

Javeen paused. She thought of the Arishok lifting her to her feet after it all, and pressing his forehead to hers. She chuckled. "It doesn't feel like a loss. I didn't win, but I didn't lose."

"I've never seen you so calm," Merrill gushed suddenly, "Ma Vhenan, back at home you were wound up so tight I thought you'd snap one day."

"I very nearly did, I think." Javeen said it so bluntly, so clearly that it even surprised herself. "Whatever this is...I suppose I needed it."

"Will you stay?" Merrill asked, her voice quiet.

Javeen paused. It did sound like she was about to abandon the life she had to keep this one. She quickly shook her head. "I will be returning periodically to help with the lessons I told you about, at least until they return home."

"Oh." Her voice was much more chipper. "Do you know why they are still here? They haven't found what they're looking for?"

"They haven't told me." She remembered what the Arishok said before: 'Filth stole from us.' Javeen hadn't heard anything more than that, and if they had found it there was no way they would still be here. It was frustrating, since if she knew what had been stolen, surely she could help them find it, or at least see it from a different perspective that might help them in their search. But the Arishok had straight up refused to elaborate on any details.

"Well, I'm happy for you," Merrill smiled, "I missed you terribly, but it's so good to see you without that deep crease on your brow." She playfully poked Javeen's forehead.

Javeen patted her hand, chuckling. Standing up, she motioned Merrill to follow. "I want to show you something."

She lead her to the Mashaar's tent, Arzhela sitting proudly on her stand in the middle. Merrill immediately beamed when she saw it. "Is that-?"

"It is." Javeen lifted the bow from her stand. "I think it's about time I used her."

They left for the barracks, where several wooden targets were set up for practice. A fletcher of prepared arrows sat beside every target, and she grabbed one. She warmed up Arzhela by pulling her string back and forth, but never, ever letting it go. She took an arrow and notched it, staring at the target with clear eyes. She pulled back the arrow with ease and familiarity of an expert. But with Arzhela, it felt like home.

"You really haven't used her yet?" Merrill asked, watching intently.

"I was waiting for you." Javeen let loose the arrow.

* * *

The assassin watched amused from above, inside the shadows.

It was a nice bow, he thought to himself. He'd heard all the rumours about the infamous Javeen Hawke, how she rose up from basically nothing, grabbed a noble position by raiding the Deeproads, and practically lead a war of terror against the bandits and low-lives who targeted the townsfolk. It was smart to surround herself with giants when she was most vulnerable.

She was going to be a problem.

But she wouldn't be here forever. He watched an arrow slam into the middle of the wooden target once again, and sighed. He'd have to wait until Hawke was gone. That would guarantee his survival.

He relaxed, nibbling on some fancy chocolates he nipped from Linnett's kitchen before he left. Luckily, he had all the time in the world to wait.


	15. Return

"I do not understand," Kaaras said, his brow slightly furrowed, "why do they allow themselves to live in filth?"

Javeen shook her head, taking a sip of tea. "It isn't about what they allow. They can't choose anything else. There are simply no structures or safety nets they can fall on if they try. The Qunari operate as one, right? So there's always support. Human society is mostly divided, which allows more ways of life and strengths and growth, but it also creates unfair gaps. Multiply that by a thousand, and you've got Kirkwall."

Kaaras stared at her blankly. "And humans just accept this."

"What else can they do, when their survival relies on it?"

Kaaras placed a hand on his mouth, deep in thought. He hadn't had a sip of his tea yet, he was processing too much to remember. "This way does not allow for change."

"Change is slow, and often painful if history is any indication," Javeen nodded. "Could be why we are reluctant to change at all. But when enough people stand and speak out, it does happen."

"If they came to the Qun, that pain would never happen again."

"Yeah well, you can't force everyone to join." She thought back to Ketojan's last words. "A smart man once told me if you force choice, it isn't choice."

"Hm," Kaaras eyed her thoughtfully, "that is a wise insight. Strange how the Qun comes from you at times."

 _Well, it was a qunari who told me that,_ Javeen thought, but Ketojan was still a very difficult memory to talk about...and she didn't want to hear her new friends say his choice was the correct one.

"We have spoken for some time," Kaaras smiled slightly, looking through the crack of the entrance. "I believe that should end our lesson for today."

Javeen nodded. Their lessons have been going pretty well, she thought at least. He had so many questions about human society, many that were difficult to answer and usually ended up in a discussion that lasted for hours. But, he was making progress in understanding, even just a little. Javeen never really thought long conversations about humanity and history wouldn't be numbingly boring. Surprises all around.

He too was starting to get better. The loss of his subordinate still was raw, but he was starting to feel like himself again. Out of necessity, she was sure. He was needed after all.

Well. Now that that part of the day was over, Javeen took a deep breath and headed to the healer's tent. Slowly, as she knew what he was going to say. She wanted to hold on for just a little longer.

"Shanedan, Hawke," he greeted as she stepped through, "sit."

Javeen did as she was told, removing her shirt as was habit now. Scar tissue ran across her torso like a whip, a jagged mark on her ribcage, her shoulder. Her back had one too. The movement required to take off the shirt no longer sent sharp pains down her body. Muscle tissue had returned, coming back slowly.

Joanna, who was usually present during her examinations now, bit down a trembling lip. She was happy for Hawke of course, but...

The healer nodded once, smiling. "You are healed."

It was silent for a moment as they all let it sink in. Nearly half a year Javeen lived in the Compound. Time spent that was both long and short, coming to an end. Javeen quickly dressed, keeping her face neutral. "Then..." she said slowly, "I must prepare."

* * *

Javeen studied the Mashaar from afar. Her focus on her work, the steam from the pots and smoke from the fire pits all gave her a shine, an aura that Javeen admired most about her. There was very little she could offer the woman in gratitude for allowing Javeen to live in her home for so long. She had all she needed. And there was never a speck of waste with her.

Javeen nodded when the Mashaar noticed her approach. There was a sigh, and a quick switch of position as the Mashaar left her station to see what Javeen wanted, though she was less annoyed at interruptions now than in the beginning. Which was rather sweet of her, Javeen thought, once you knew what the Mashaar was like.

"Make it quick Hawke," she said, always to the point.

Javeen reached into her pocket and brought out two heat runes that were once a part of her father's torch for metalworking. She would have them replaced easily, knowing Sandal. "These are for you," Javeen nodded, practically shoving the runes into the Mashaar's hands. "A parting gift."

The Mashaar's eyebrows quirked. "You are healed, then."

"I am."

Quiet contemplation lowered the Mashaar's eyes to the two runes in her hands. She studied them in thought, turning them over a few times. "...I see. I don't require gifts, you know."

"No, you're right. Qunari are hard to shop for." Javeen grinned slightly as the Mashaar shot her an annoyed glance. "Those runes control heat, which I'm sure you could use in your work. I bet you could cut down the time it takes to cook by a lot when you master them. I can show you how."

The Mashaar was a quick study, her eyebrows raised in surprise as she boiled a large pot of broth in not even half the time it normally took. Javeen knew she could not gift the Mashaar any material or any cooking instrument; she already had everything she needed. There was only one thing Javeen could give her.

Time.

The Mashaar smiled. She always had a lovely smile. "I don't understand. It isn't as if I will never see you again. Why the gift?"

"You let me stay in your personal space. I wanted to repay that. Both of you." Javeen chuckled. "Maybe now Kaaras will pester you less for working too hard."

The Mashaar's smile turned into a very different one. "Oh, I hope not."

* * *

She spotted Camlen at the arena, watching the current bout closely. He was so hyper focused on what was happening in front of him that he ignored everything else, which made sneaking up behind him much too easy. While that was a weakness, his skill in observation was unmatched to any of the other viddathari. His eyes saw everything when he paid attention, every movement, every shift in demeanour, every muscle tense. That was why she wasn't worried that he would never learn.

When the bout ended, he let out a breath he was holding- even his breathing was slowed so he could fully concentrate. She shook her head, tapping him on the back of his head. "You'll pass out doing that."

Camlen jumped a few feet, turning around wildly at his intruder. Other qunari regarded him with raised brows, making his cheeks flush. He glared at her. "Don't do that, Hawke."

"Then pay attention to your surroundings," she said, then grinned. "But I will allow you the chance to get back at me."

"What are you-" he began, then his eyes widened. "You can't challenge, you're injured."

"I am not."

That shut him up. No sound came out of an agape mouth for a few moments, then he started to nod, looking at the ground. "About time," he managed to say.

Javeen huffed an agreement, but it was half-hearted. "Camlen," she said, and that was when her eyes changed. "Show me what you've got."

He gulped back his retort, his jaw hardening. Suddenly they were in the arena and surrounded by pounding feet and loud voices. And they both turned sideways.

Javeen bit back a smile. His stance was the same as what she had taught him, but stronger. More solid. He'd been practicing. Stepping to the side to see how he'd react, Javeen noticed that he was mimicking her movement. Not just what she was doing now, but movement she had done before in other arena challenges. He must have seen them all. Practiced on his own. It was a far cry from masterful movement, but Camlen was more skilled than he gave himself credit for.

Still though. She was going to kick his ass with such shoddy stances.

He was too nervous to make the first attack. _That only works when your defence is good, kid, and you know it._ She threw the first punch, catching his arm as he raised it to protect his face. He winced at the force, which was more than enough distraction to kick at the back of his knees. Camlen fell ungracefully onto his ass, and only managed to barely roll out of the way of Javeen's next kick stomp towards his chest. She backed up slightly and raised her fists when he scrambled to his feet again.

He was breathing heavily, but he glared and took one deep breath and calmed his nerves. _Good. Stay calm. Focus._ This time he charged, and though it was clumsy it was also in a way admirable. She side stepped him easily, but to his credit he did not relent. And as she continued to dodge, she smiled at him.

"What?" he asked as he threw another punch.

"You will be fine," she said, and round house kicked him in the face.

When Camlen regained himself, Javeen extended her hand. As he accepted and began to pull him up, she placed her forehead on his.

And the sounds from the surrounding qunari dwarfed all other noise.

* * *

As the evening chill spread throughout the Compound, Javeen loaded up a satchel full of the gifts given to her long ago, heading towards the healer's tent. Not for a checkup. It struck her that she'd never have to go back there for medical attention, and while that was a good thing, it also meant she had no reason to go there anymore. She couldn't just hang out in the tent, wasting space.

She swallowed back a lump in her throat. Best make this good then.

She waited until the moment he took his usual break between patients, sipping his red tea infused with some secret extra spice he refused to say what it was. Kaaras implied that it was a spice only found on their island and he didn't want others to know what it was... lest they seek it out for themselves and he runs out of his stash. Javeen thought it was probably something similar to coffee, except much more potent. Just because he was qunari didn't mean he didn't have his addictions.

She plunked the satchel heavily onto his table as he browsed through his notes. His brow raised, not used to being interrupted. "What is this?"

"All the books you lent me," Javeen said, all in Qunlat. "I cannot take them away from you."

The healer paused at the Qunlat. Normally, she would only speak in simpler sentences mixed with Common when she didn't know the words. Not this time. He answered in turn. "It would seem they did an adequate job teaching you. Though your tone could use some work."

Javeen rolled her eyes. "My tone is fine, learning from you."

"So you say. A Qunari would know you an amateur at the first syllable."

"Vashedan."

His eyes narrowed, and he nodded. "Better."

All playful banter aside, Javeen sighed, nodding to her friend and the man who saved her life. "Thank you, healer. Learning...it felt worthy. Many things I do is because they are necessary. And that's all they are. But this..." she gestured to the books, "worth every pain I endured."

He was quiet for a moment, no smile and studying her. He picked up a book and looked it over, brushing the cover with a thumb. Then he sighed, a small smile on his face. "Odd. Even though it seems a waste to have taught you just to forget in time...I too cannot see it as such." He handed her the book in his hand. "Keep this one. Try not to forget."

"You're sure?" Javeen asked, fighting back tightness in her throat.

"No one wants their efforts wasted. I have plenty of books back in Seheron as well." His smile became more playful. "I suppose I can sacrifice this one."

Javeen took the book with a long breath. "Thank you."

He motioned for her to follow him. "There is one more thing to give you."

The healer led Javeen to the quartermaster, in behind a curtained off area of the workspace that she had never gone in before. Her eyes widened at what she saw in the very back, displayed on an armour stand custom made for her size. On it was her old leather armour that she wore when she was first brought here. But it had been repaired. The black leather had been cleaned and the long claw groove that had gone completely through it was no more. They must have made a new breastplate entirely.

She ran her hand down the right arm of the armour. "When did you have time to work on this?" she asked in Qunlat.

"Not too much extra work," the quartermaster replied, "small amount of material."

The healer laughed with him, and even Javeen couldn't help but grin, even though it was yet another short joke. The quartermaster handed her the shirt she came in with as well, though it had not been sewn. A long claw mark that matched the scar on her torso ran down the shirt, but she took it all the same. "Thank you. Both of you."

She stood her armour at the foot of her bed, waiting for tomorrow.

* * *

She awoke early, earlier than she had ever before. She wondered if she even slept, but she did not feel tired. She put on the armour given back to her, feeling something different this time. It was just armour. Nothing else to it. But after so much time, it felt like it had changed. It had the touch of the Qunari now.

She entered the cool, barely morning air and took a deep breath. She was going to miss the ever present smell of spice. Kirkwall's aromas were often unpleasant or neutral, depending where you were. Here it was consistent and good.

She smiled faintly as she approached the Arishok's dais, with the Arishok no where to be found yet. She beat him to it this time. She sat on her spot at the top, folding her legs and closing her eyes. Breath in, and out. Clear your head. Focus on your breathing. She did not react when the Arishok's footsteps slowly ascended the dais, the gentle settling of his body as he took his place beside her.

Tomorrow her day would not start like this. This structure would be gone. She would still meditate, and the Arishok would think her foolish if she said that it wouldn't feel like the same way without him, but regardless it would not. It wasn't a sad thing really, as it wasn't a goodbye. But she learned how valuable routine was. Getting back into the chaos of Kirkwall was going to be difficult.

Most days than not, these meditations passed silently. This was the first time the Arishok broke the silence.

"We will send for your tools to be returned to your home. The Kaaras will lead them. Is that acceptable?"

Javeen opened her eyes, then nodded slightly. Her voice was quiet. "Yeah. I appreciate it, Arishok."

He made a noise of acknowledgment, and they fell silent again. Twenty minutes passed, then an hour. First light was always the moment when their mediations ended and they began the rest of their day. Her eyes instinctively shut tighter for a moment as sunlight hit them, and she took a long breath as she stood. But she did not leave right away. Instead she extended a hand to the Arishok.

He opened a narrowed eye. "What."

"A handshake," Javeen said. "My job is to help you understand Kirkwall a bit more. In Kirkwall, we handshake to say hello, to confirm business transactions...and to say thanks."

The Arishok snorted. "A simple gesture that means too many things."

"Just shake my hand you stubborn jackass." She paused for a moment. "Please."

A chuckle that somehow also sounded like a warning snuck out of him, and he breathed a short sigh. Then, he took her hand, a little too hard for a handshake. His hand dwarfed hers easily. Javeen squeezed back just as hard and they shook once. "Thank you, Arishok," she smiled.

He hummed an acknowledgment, letting go of her hand and closing his eyes. She would let him finish his meditation, descending the steps of the dais for what was probably the last time.

She never knew this, but the Arishok watched her go, flexing the hand he used to shake hers.

* * *

Javeen did not stop at the gates as she left. Arzhela at her back and eyes forward, she passed through the gates of the Compound without hesitation. She nodded at the guards before she went through. She'd said her goodbyes to everyone. No more delays, it was time to return to her life beyond the walls.

The smell of Kirkwall hit her first. There was always the scent of the sea since they were on the docks, but instead of spice mixed in it it was smoke and food and garbage. Unwashed bodies and perfume, depending where you stood. The noise was almost deafening now. She breathed in, focusing her ears, muting the voices that didn't matter. Learning how to meditate helped this skill, taking it further than she ever could before.

She picked up on frantic footsteps behind her long before Javeen heard her voice.

"Hawke! Wait!"

Javeen turned to see Joanna panting heavily and clutching a large piece of silk in her arms. She had said her goodbyes just as any before, prompting Javeen to raise an eyebrow. "I have only been gone for a few seconds, Joanna."

"I know that!" Joanna laughed, "I want to give you this." Upon inspection, it turned out to be the dress Joanna wore when she was first brought to the Compound. Cleaned, but still torn in places.

Javeen gave her a blank stare. "I don't wear dresses."

Joanna puffed her cheeks. "I know that. This isn't actually for you..." She smiled as she rolled up the long fabric. "I'm hoping you can do me a favour? Could you sell this? I won't ever need it again. And could you give the money to...to Camlen's family?"

Oh. Javeen took the silk and put it under her arm. "I can do that."

Joanna beamed. "Thank you! It was just going to waste in there...it might as well be used for something good, right?"

Javeen patted her shoulder. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, Joanna. I'm sure you'll put his mind at ease."

Just as Joanna started to speak, Javeen heard a noise from above. Distant, from the direction of the rooftops. Like a careful footstep that didn't expect to be heard as it slipped. She turned her head sharply towards where she heard it. Eyes narrowed, they darted from rooftop to rooftop. She found nothing but... that didn't mean it was nothing. If she hadn't blocked out the other voices and goings on...she probably wouldn't have heard it at all.

"Hawke?" Joanna asked.

"You should head back," Javeen said, with a hint of warning. "I'll make sure your request is done, okay?"

"Oh...alright." Confused, Joanna smiled. "We will see you soon, right?"

Javeen turned back to the teenager. "Yeah. I'll be back every week, most likely."

"Good!" She waved as she turned to head back. Javeen watched her head back all the way to the gates, and made sure she went inside. She couldn't know for sure that what she heard was a threat. She glared once more at the direction of the sound, but then turned to leave. It was time to go home.

Above on the rooftop, an assassin sighed in relief, and silently cursed shoddy Kirkwall construction.

* * *

Javeen felt like a ghost as she made her way through Hightown. Being nearly six months away must have been just long enough for the nobles to assume she had died or something. Ugh. She would have preferred they stay thinking that. She gritted her teeth against the annoying whispers and continued on.

She felt an immediate softness in herself as Hawke manor finally came into view. That familiar door put urgency into her step, her hand shaking as she turned the doorknob and let the warmth of the foyer wrap around her. She closed the door quietly, and she smiled slightly at the familiar bark that rushed its way over to her, tail wagging furiously. Javeen bent a knee to scratch Reav's ears, and another familiar voice made her look ahead.

"Who-" Bodhan said, "-oh! Mistress Hawke, you've returned!"

"Hey," Javeen nodded, "could you get mother and-"

"Hawke!"

That voice came from the top of the staircase, where a beaming Merrill and a shocked Leandra were deciding on a new painting to put up in the upper hallway. Merrill wasted no time. She put a hand on the railing and jumped over it. Leandra reached a terrified hand towards her, but Merrill was gone. Javeen rushed into the room just as Merrill landed well, somersaulted back onto her feet, and ran towards her love like Javeen had been gone for years. She threw her arms around Javeen and squeezed tight, exploding with joy and words of welcoming.

Mother ran down the stairs ungracefully, tears in her eyes. She threw herself on the two, hugging them both so hard Merrill lost her breath for a moment. Maker, it was impossibly warm.

Javeen held them close. "I'm home."


	16. Catch Up

The Hanged Man was, as always, a bloody sty. Literally, depending on where you were sitting. Not tonight, though. Varric wrangled up the best, or rather, the cleanest seats for everyone, closest to the bar and away from the door. Javeen was handed a beer from the bar maid, which she promptly shoved in front of Varric. He grinned as he took a swig.

"Never change, Hawke."

Anders shook his head. "You certainly did miss the free drinks, didn't you Varric?"

Varric shrugged. "Guilty."

"Pfft. And it's always you," Isabela sighed. "Why not pass some of that kindness to me once in a while, Hawke? I'm way more fun drunk than him."

"That's why," Javeen said, "he doesn't get drunk."

"That you know of," Fenris added dryly.

Varric turned to Fenris. "You have never seen me drunk, broody."

Fenris took a sip of his own drink. "That you know of."

" _Anyway_ ," Varric pressed on, "as fun as this is, it's not why we're here." He flashed a grin at Javeen. "We're here for the details."

"Maybe _you_ are," Isabela said, her brow furrowing. "I'm here for the drinks."

"What details do you want." Javeen said it as more of a statement than a question.

"Oh come on Hawke, you were literally inside the walls of the most talked about outsiders Kirkwall has ever had. For months." Varric leaned over the table, pen and paper ready. "How was it?"

Javeen shrugged. "It was good."

"Good. Good?!" Varric sighed. "This is why I have to follow you everywhere."

"So you can make it up as you go?" Isabela purred, grinning from ear to ear.

Varric laughed sarcastically and dramatically threw his pen and paper behind him. "At least there is free alcohol."

Merrill giggled at Varric's dramatics, making Javeen smile a bit. She figured if Varric got any story from her, she'd read later that he embellished a terribly written romance plot or epic battle that did not happen, as he was wont to do with his stories. But...as they were now, her friends had their own ideas about how her stay with the qunari was, and she couldn't imagine they thought anything positive about it. Except for Merrill. She saw something good in it.

"It was...peaceful." Javeen said suddenly, as her companions teased each other. They fell quiet, looking back at her with interest. "I liked the structure. Learned a lot. Finished her." She nodded her head towards Arzhela. "That's why it was good. I met good people there."

Anders snorted. "Only you would find an army peaceful, Hawke."

Javeen frowned. "It wasn't like that."

Anders made a face of disbelief, but put his hands up in defeat, going back to his drink. Awkward silence filled the table. Javeen's jaw tightened. She'd forgotten what that small void between her companions felt like. She'd always kept them at an arm's length except for Merrill, and even with her...hadn't she promised she would be better? Not just for Merrill, but for everyone.

Isabela dropped her cup loud enough to get attention. "Well, it's been fun, but unfortunately the Qunari don't interest me all that much." She stood up and stretched. "I think I'm gonna wander around, see if I can get into some trouble."

Javeen didn't want her to leave, not so soon. She wanted to catch up with them all, she had missed out on a lot with her stay. They all had their own shit, but if she could be helpful, she would. Her brain raced with anything, anything that would keep Isabela's interest so they could still talk. "I saw a lot of naked men," she blurted out.

Isabela paused.

The whole table paused.

The pirate turned around, with stars in her eyes. She went back to her seat, leaning forward on her hands.

"Tell me more."

And Javeen did. Not so much the naked men, but she told them the details of her stay. Enough that Varric happily retrieved his pen and paper.

* * *

The night passed into the beginning hours of the next day, and that was when Hawke and her crew decided it was time to go home. With an asleep and drunken Merrill on her back, Javeen said her goodbyes and made her way to the door. She paused when Aveline stood there, arms folded and staring quite intently at her. Aveline had been mostly quiet the whole night, aside from brief updates about the guard.

"Let's take a walk," she said, her jaw hard. She opened the door for Javeen.

When it was closed, Javeen nodded to her. "What's going on."

"What do you think," Aveline sighed, "come on, let's get away from the door."

They walked for a few minutes in silence, until Aveline was satisfied there was no one around to listen. "Look. I'll get to the point. The investigation into Linett is...pretty much a dead end."

Javeen gritted her teeth. "There was nothing on the Wounded Coast?"

Aveline shook her head. "It must have been cleaned. I checked the ledgers at the docks, and while there is proof that Linett did set off on her boat that day...there's no physical proof she went to the Wounded Coast. Or did anything that you said."

"Didn't you question her? Did she not report what happened on that day?"

"She did," Aveline nodded, "she testified that Qunari had taken her daughter and that her guards weren't enough to rescue her. She claimed that she saw her die. When I questioned her again when Joanna showed up alive, she said she was sure Joanna was dead, but that she could have been wrong. She just assumed since it was the Qunari."

Hot anger bubbled within Javeen. "It _wasn't_ Qunari-please tell me you don't believe that."

"I don't, but I should!" Aveline hissed. "There is no evidence other than your word it's not. Your word. Not even the girl, might I remind you. I haven't even _spoken_ to Joanna because the Arishok refuses. So unless I get her testimony, I don't see how I could ever arrest Linett."

That much was true. But getting the Arishok's approval might be difficult, even if she explained it would help put Linett away. Still, she would have to try. "I will see if I can convince him. Can't guarantee anything."

Aveline sighed. "Then that's something." She looked at Javeen almost apologetically. "There's something else. The Viscount is going to summon you to ask you about your stay. The letter is probably on your desk by now."

Javeen's lip curled. "It is not his damn business."

"Hawke-" Aveline was using her Guard Voice. "It is his business when it comes to them."

Javeen stopped and stared at her friend. She thought of several retorts and snappy words that she knew wouldn't help any. Instead, she took a deep breath, adjusting Merrill to a more comfortable position on her back. "Goodnight, Aveline." And then she walked past.

"Goodnight, Hawke," Aveline said, her voice almost too quiet to hear.

* * *

Javeen smoothed out the covers she had tucked Merrill in, lighting an incense on top of their dresser that smelled of pine. It helped Merrill sleep better. It was late and certainly Javeen should curl up beside her and get some rest, but she had to see if it was there. She went down the stairs, towards the fireplace where Reave was sleeping on his back. A writing desk piled with paper sat innocently, but Maker, did she hate this thing. This was where most of the bullshit started. And yes, there was a new letter right on top, the Viscount's seal all too familiar.

She quickly tore into it, getting it over with. It read like most Viscount letters did; in Seneshal Bran's polite-yet-totally-condescending voice. They wanted to see her first thing tomorrow.

She sighed long, ten times more tired than before.

The late hours of morning came too quick. She left early to avoid most people on the street, away from the stares and whispers. Ascending the stairs of the Keep made her glower turn into more of a snarl, but when she opened the door she relaxed it. The servants in the Keep didn't deserve her glares.

This place remained the same as always; it smelled of perfume and the stairs were lined with people wanting to talk to Aveline, who was posted in the other end of the building with her guardsmen. Javeen shuddered to think of having a line outside her door demanding her of anything. She avoided eye contact with everyone.

Her stomach boiled with anger at the sound of a particular voice, however.

"Ah," he droned, his voice dripping with that familiar boredom and disdain. "Serah Hawke. You are right on time. How unusual."

Seneshal Bran folded his arms across his chest, standing outside the Viscount's door as he always did. Ever the boot licker. In her anger, she couldn't even tell what kind of face she was making, but from his sudden nervous eye contact and his straightening of his coat, whatever it was was enough to put him on edge.

Seneshal Bran coughed. "Ahem. Well. Viscount Dumar is waiting, and he is a very busy man so do not-"

"You are in my way." He backed away quickly to avoid a powerful elbow as Javeen opened the door and quickly closed it behind her. He would eavesdrop surely, but that was still better than having him in the room.

Viscount Dumar looked up wearily from his papers, a flash of surprise in his eyes that she was in fact there. "Serah Hawke. I did not expect you until later." He put his fancy, golden pen down and stood. "No matter. It is good to see you. I understand your injuries were...grave."

She moved away from the door, but did not sit in the seat in front of his desk. "Not grave enough."

"I suppose we have the Qunari to thank for that. Strange, to see them help a vital part of Kirkwall for once."

Javeen said nothing. The Qunari didn't help Kirkwall, that was true enough, but they didn't hinder it either. They kept to themselves as much as possible. He knew that well, as if he didn't, he would be having a nervous breakdown at every mention of the Qunari.

"And that is what puzzles me the most, Serah." His eyes narrowed. "Why did they help you?"

If she told him anything about Tallis and that list...it would put her and every single innocent on it in danger. That was why she didn't keep it. She folded her arms across her chest, cutting herself off from him as best she could. "My affairs are not your concern."

"It is if they become a threa-"

"It isn't. They had their reasons that doesn't put Kirkwall in danger. Just leave it at that."

Dumar sighed heavily, running a frustrated hand down his face. "You must be conscious of how this looks, Hawke."

Okay. Nice time was over. "You honestly, after all these years I have protected, worked for, bled for to keep this place an ounce safer for the people, think that I'm conspiring with the Qunari to- what- take it over or something?" Her snarl was back. "Fuck. You."

You would think a man in his position had been told to fuck off many times. But no, he looked shocked at her words. And a little guilty, which was at least somewhat decent of him. He took another deep breath, calming himself. "I...apologize, Hawke. I have not forgotten. Especially your help when it comes to my son." His eyes narrowed in warning. "But you need to watch your tone. I am still the Viscount."

Javeen shrugged, waving her acknowledgment. "Fine."

Dumar sank back into his chair. "Then, you are sure? There is nothing to be worried about in this moment? My son still sees them, this much I know. I need to know the Arishok isn't using him, or-"

Maker. Javeen thought back to the time when she asked the Arishok this, years ago. Even she thought it was a convenient political move for Saemus to be so close to them. What a stupid thing to ask back then.

"He is not." She was surprised how gentle her voice was. "All of the converts join of their own volition. The Arishok did not seek him out to spite you. I didn't see your son much when I was there, but when I did, all he was doing was...helping out. Tending to the wounded. Organizing weapons and supplies."

He looked at her with tired eyes. "If he joins-"

"It will be his choice only."

Dumar breathed into his hands, shutting his eyes tight. "I have tried for years to communicate, to reach some sort of truce. But they refuse to even speak to us."

Javeen raised an eyebrow. "As in, a meeting? What were the conditions?"

"Well," Dumar said, "that we would meet here, not in their Compound. For us to bring a limited amount of people, five representatives at most. And no weapons."

Javeen rolled her eyes. "Well no wonder they refused. You can't ask a Qunari of the Antaam not to bring their weapon. Their weapons are a part of them. They can't rejoin their people if they lose them. That's how important they are."

Dumar stared at her. He was silent for a few moments, and Javeen had to bite back a smug smile. "If...if that is the case, why did they not mention this?"

"They are not here to hold your hand," Javeen said harshly, "if you don't put in the effort to figure it out, why is it their job to tell you? Especially after you asked them to do the unthinkable."

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache, Javeen assumed. "Well then," he continued, "it has been made abundantly clear that I need you for more than I'd hoped. All I wanted was a few insights into any potential plans they might have that would affect Kirkwall but...now I see a different opportunity for you to help."

"No."

Her voice was cold, even for her. It had the edge of warning, just enough to get the message across. Stunned, Viscount Dumar raised his hands in confusion. "Hawke-"

"I will not play spy for you."

"That is _not_ what I-"

"It was. It will be." Javeen turned towards the door. "Now, if there's nothing else, I have a life to return to."

She heard him slump against his chair, the longest sigh coming out of him like steam. "Go, then."

Seneshal Bran was away from the door when she closed it, but he was glaring daggers the moment she caught those eyes that she hated. "You are making a mistake, Hawke."

She did the thing that annoyed him the most. She ignored him and walked away.

She tried not to dwell on what just happened. She shouldn't be shocked at what Dumar wanted to ask of her, perhaps she would ask the same had she been in his position. And the Qunari had their fair share of spies. But it would absolutely not be her. She couldn't do that to them, no matter how much it helped Kirkwall.

Her heart plummeted as she noticed a small crowd was gathered around her door. She powered through it, intent to ignore it all, but one noble spoke up once he noticed her.

"Serah Hawke, there's, there's qunari in your home. They came by with some...equipment? Do you need us to call the guard?"

Hawke's eyes widened, but if she reacted any way that could be interpreted as negative, the guard would show up at her house and put Kaaras, who had to be there, in danger along with his subordinates. "No," she said after a sharp breath, "there is nothing to worry about. Go home, you lot."

And she went inside without hesitation.

Then cursed loudly inside her head.

She heard Merrill's laughter coming from the direction of the guestroom. Which was a relief from the expected shouts from mother. Javeen rushed towards the sound, and walked through the open door to a most...peculiar sight.

Kaaras, along with three of his subordinates, were sitting at the guest table, their weapons placed beside them and leaning against their chairs. They all had a tiny, ceramic cups in their way-too-big hands. Merrill was sipping from her own cup, while mother observed from a distance at the end of the table. She wore an expression as if she were trying not to look very nervous and failing spectacularly at it. She had made tea.

It was so absurd that Javeen immediately burst into hysterical laughter.

"Javeen," mother scolded, though it was half hearted, "don't be rude! These are your guests."

"Sorry," Javeen managed with a chuckle, "it's good to see you all." She pulled up a chair beside Merrill. "Run into any trouble on the way?"

"No," Kaaras said, "most were content on staying out of our path." He put his now empty cup onto the table carefully. "Though...there was an orange haired woman in guard uniform who asked us of our destination. She kept the other guard away."

"Aveline," Javeen smiled slightly. "Well, we have a backdoor for when you leave. You'll get less attention that way. Trust me."

"Very well," Kaaras nodded, "then show us where you keep your soul."

Merrill and Leandra exchanged a look, while Javeen just shook her head. "Dramatic. Come on, I'll show you."

She led them downstairs into the basement, where Javeen had carved out a workshop for herself. Shelves covered the walls holding all sorts of old work that never made it to be given away and one that held all of the different powders and ingredients for making glazes. Shelves that she had built herself in the first few months of living here. Her kiln sat at the back of the basement, the sad thing not been used in some time, since it was way too heavy to carry to the compound. She would change that. The space was large but practical, had all the necessities to work in a controlled, safe environment. And from now on...she would not neglect it.

"Set it down here," Javeen pointed, and the qunari planted her wheel exactly where it used to be. Now the workshop felt completed again, and a sudden, overwhelming sense of...of peace enveloped her. The rest of her tools were placed in their spots as well; the ceramic tools and her metal working torches. She nodded her thanks when they were done.

Kaaras smiled as he looked over the room. "Large space, undecorated, all the necessities. It does suit you very well, bird of prey."

"It does, doesn't it?"

"Now, we must return," Kaaras said, "you will be at the compound in a few days?"

She nodded. "In a few days. I'll bring some history books, I guess." She made a face. "And maybe some etiquette ones too, but only to make fun of them."

"Ridiculing human etiquette will help us understand them more?"

" _Definitely_."

He gave her a dubious look, but accepted all the same. She lead them through the manor towards the back exit, and gave them a general idea of how to avoid most attention. Routes that she used all the time to avoid people. She watched them go, until they disappeared into the city.

She smiled as familiar arms wrapped around her. "I like them," Merrill purred. "They seem nice."

"I do too." Javeen took her hand. "Come on. Want to help me mix some glazes?"

Merrill beamed like the sun. "I'd love to!"

For the first time ever, Javeen spent a blissful, entire day in her own space made only for her.


	17. Fabric and Flowers

Javeen eyed Joanna's old, torn up dress with a look of mild disdain. Why anyone wanted to wear clothes like this, she had no idea. It was expensive, that much was for certain. But she had no idea how much. Since it had been torn up, the cost must have gone down, though there were no remains of blood on it. She wanted to make sure Camlen's family got every bit of coin they could from it. For that, she needed to have some idea of how much it was worth.

As she was folding up the dress to take with her, Javeen heard her mother's hums coming up the stairs towards her room, the knock on the door expected. "It's open," Javeen called.

"Hello darling," Leandra smiled, wearing one of her outdoor dresses. She must have just gotten back from the errand she said she had to do. Whatever it was. She didn't elaborate. "I was wondering if you could-oh!" Her eyes bee-lined towards the dress. "Maker above. A dress in your room. That I didn't give you? Did the Maker finally heed my prayers?"

"No," Javeen replied flatly, "this was Joanna's." Javeen pursed her lips. "...do you really pray to the Maker to make me wear a dress?"

Leandra giggled and made her way over towards her daughter. "No, no. I was joking. I gave up that wish." She looked over the fabric with interest. "This is fine silk. Not a surprise if it's Joanna's. How is she, by the way? I-I've been hearing a lot about that family of late."

"She's doing alright." Javeen glanced at her mother. "Look, I'll tell you about her only if you promise not to speak about her to your noble friends. She's got enough grief right now."

Leadnra smiled warmly. "Of course. I'll always keep the secrets of the people you care about."

That made Javeen smile. Mother did have a knack of saying exactly what she needed to hear. "She's at the Compound. She joined the Qun."

Leandra gasped. "By god! You said she was doing alright!"

"Joining was her choice," Javeen replied firmly, "and she finally feels safe again. Away from her old life."

Leandra bit her lip. "Lacrissa has been rather...well. I do not make it a habit to spread terrible rumours, but I have heard some...awful things after her husband passed. But I thought Joanna had been taken. That is what her mother claims, at any rate."

"It's a lie," Javeen said, gripping her arm hard with the other hand. "Take my advice and never associate with that family again. They'll get what's coming soon enough."

Sighing, Leandra nodded. "I trust you, dear. Surprisingly, I'm relieved that you're finally taking part of the opinions and politics of being a noble. Though I wish the best for that girl."

Javeen nodded numbly. She wished the same too. She lifted up the fabric to give mother a better look. "She gave me this when I left. She wants to give it to the elven family of one of the converts she's friends with. I want to make sure they get as much money as possible but," -she dropped the fabric with a looks of disdain- "I have no idea how much money this is worth."

"Oh! I can help you with that!" Leandra took the fabric and grinned. "You don't live a life like mine without knowing a thing or two about high quality clothing." She ran her fingers through the dress, feeling and testing. It took her a few moments, but eventually she smiled and nodded. "This is very good. It is damaged, so you wouldn't be able to sell it as a dress, but you can certainly salvage the fabric that isn't and sell it to a seamstress for probably...fifty gold pieces?"

Javeen balked. "Fif- it's worth that much?"

Leandra puffed up her chest in pride. "Our clothes are nothing to sneeze at, my girl."

A truly horrifying concept considering how poor people are in the alienage and Lowtown, but nothing she could do about it. "Well, at least that will really help Camlen's family..."

"Are you going to give it them today?"

"I was hoping to."

"Let me cut it first! I can get rid of the damage before you take it to a merchant. You'd get a better price if it looks nice right away." She took the fabric and smiled. "Give me about an hour. Then we can deliver it!"

Javeen raised an eyebrow. "You want to come along?"

"Yes! We haven't yet spent much quality time together since you got back. I'd love to help you with this."

She couldn't argue with that. And it would be nice to have a day with mother. They hadn't had one since her birthday...and before that? Years. They were both too busy and too raw from Carver to spend too much time in the same vicinity alone.

Leandra disappeared into her room and emerged some time later, the fabric no longer a mess of rips, but a neatly folded piece like the ones always on display at a tailoring shop. She was wearing a new dress as well, light in colour and better for walking, so less fancy ruffles and the like. Bodhan gave them a cheerful goodbye as they left.

Leandra looked at Javeen, confused when she turned towards a different path from Hightown's merchants. "Darling? Where are you going?"

"To the alienage first. They might want the fabric over the money."

"Oh! Then we can stop by Gamlen's on the way."

Javeen groaned. "Mother, no."

"He is your uncle, Javeen. And he took us in. We should visit when we can."

"I doubt he wants that."

Leandra frowned. "That isn't true! We see each other every week, you know."

Javeen rolled her eyes."Ugh, fine. Only for a few minutes."

Leandra nodded happily, keeping up to her daughter's quick pace as they weaved through to Lowtown. Javeen had forgotten how popular mother was. So many people greeted her and had a brief catch up with her. She had many friends that were rich and poor, since she herself had been both at one point. Many of her lower class friends still loved her greatly, as when she re-obtained the family fortune, she donated money to them to help out.

Even though it slowed down their progress significantly, Javeen still couldn't help a small smile. Interaction with others was her speciality. She didn't shy away from it like Javeen did. She worked just as hard as anyone. Seeing her shine again like this...made everything worth it.

Gamlen was not home when she knocked on his door, possibly out for drinks or something. Leandra sighed a little, but smiled regardless. "Well, so long as he's alright."

"We can check again after."

She beamed at her daughter. "Thank you, love."

The alienage was busy with people as it always was. Mother knew how much she stood out in this place and tried to keep a neutral face. Probably to be as least threatening as possible. Javeen had been here enough that the elves were no longer surprised when she showed up. Because of the donations she had given in the past, most elves were more than happy to help her if she needed it. A few questions about Camlen lead them to a small house that had very old, very dirty wind chimes hanging from the door. A lot of doors had them here, to help prevent burglaries.

An elderly, but extremely muscular elven man answered the door when Javeen knocked. His hair was short and grey, and he had the same thin eyes that Camlen had. He frowned up at the two, he had a hunch in his back that made him shorter than Javeen. "What do you want?"

"Was there an elf by the name of Camlen that used to live here?"

Immediately, the old man's eyes shot open. He swung the door open for them to enter, motioning with his hand for them to hurry up. Inside, the home was small and unfurnished except for a table and the bare necessities for a kitchen, and a hallway leading to a few other rooms. Two little elven girls with jet black hair were laying on the floor and playing a card game with hand-made wooden cards.

"Ella, Adri. Go outside and play for a while, okay?"

The girls blinked, and one spoke up. "But grandpa-"

The old man thrust a thumb towards the door. "Out."

The two glanced at each other, then collected their things. They stared at the two guests on their way out. The old man sighed, and sat heavily on one of the seats at the table. "Don't want to get their hopes up with talk." He motioned to the table. "Sit."

They sat on the opposite side of the table, next to each other. Leandra stuck out like an ink drop on paper, and there was no way for her to blend in. Javeen put the fabric on the table, and the man eyed it with a frown.

"I guess you're not here to tell me my grandson is coming back." He had a presence, this man. Hunched over sure, but the large muscles in his arms would have even impressed the Qunari. His jaw was hard and his eyes narrowed, not giving away any emotion other than annoyance. There had to be more than that. She could feel that he was keeping it together with great effort.

She saw a lot of Camlen in his face too, the features they shared obvious. Camlen must have admired him as a protector, what he wanted to be himself. And his sisters...they were young. She had no idea why Camlen left, but it was not because he hated them. Despite the man's anger, there was a warmth there too.

Javeen shook her head, and the man's sigh was painfully defeated. She folded her arms across her chest. "We brought a gift on his behalf. It's from him...indirectly, at least. I can tell you how he's doing too, if you'd like."

The man narrowed his eyes. "What the hell do you mean, indirectly?"

"He is good friends with a recent convert," Javeen explained, "and she gave away this fabric to you to do with what you'd like."

The man's lip curled. "Oh yes. That makes everything okay, then. Does he even know you're here?"

She shook her head again. "As far as I know, no. But he may have been informed after."

"Then this was a waste of time." He stood up quickly, surprisingly quickly for someone at his age. "If my idiot grandson can't face us himself, then I don't want his charity. I just want him back."

"That is completely understandable sir," Leandra said, her voice gentle. "But, as I understand it, he wasn't forced to join. And clearly he wants his family to be better off. That's something, isn't it?"

"That makes it worse," the man almost cried. Finally, he lost the composure he desperately was trying to keep. "I'd rather he was kidnapped than him running off because we couldn't-that we weren't enough! You have no idea what that's like, having to explain to his sisters that he's not coming back because he doesn't wish to. And now he makes new friends in that shit hole with giants and gives us expensive garbage and that's just supposed to make things right?" He slammed his broad hands onto the table, eyes welling with tears that he refused to let fall. "It doesn't. And it never will."

The Hawkes were silent. What exactly could they say? He had every right to react the way that he did, just as Camlen had every right to make that choice. There were no right answers.

Javeen had always supported Camlen's-any converts choice to join the Q un. It wasn't wrong to be Qunari. But facing this man so devastated by that choice it was hard not to scold Camlen in her mind for leaving them behind. She didn't know the full story-she never asked- so she chose to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he left them not out of malice, but out of necessity. He wasn't cruel, that she knew. But seeing this heartbroken man was cruel. And he would not accept what they brought.

Just as Javeen was about to gather the now useless fabric, the door opened again, and the two little girls stared owlishly towards the fabric. A small feeling of dread filled Javeen; they had obviously been listening in. Their grandfather's eyes widened in horror. "Girls-" he began to say, but both the girls spoke at the same time.

"We want the fabric."

Before their grandfather could tell them no, they bounded up to the table, stars in their eyes at the fancy fabric and bright colours they only saw in their dreams. Leandra smiled at them, and handed them the fabric. "It won't be warm enough for a blanket," she said, "but it's nice to touch, isn't it?"

The girls hung the fabric from their shoulders together, lifting it over their heads and testing it out. They had big grins on their faces as the fabric trailed behind them, the most expensive safety blanket ever. They looked at Leandra, to mother, with the most innocent and excited faces they could muster. "It's so soft! It's so pretty!" They turned to their grandpa and rushed to his side. "Look grandpa! Look what Camlen got us!"

The man was quiet for a few moments, then barely mustered his voice which croaked with every word. "I see it. You...you two like it?"

When they bobbed their heads up and down with bright smiles, that broke him. He knelt on the floor and wrapped his two granddaughters up in his arms, tears now flowing freely. Leandra put a hand on Javeen's shoulder. "Come on, love. We should leave them alone."

Yes, there was not much else to be said now. When they left the alienage and headed towards Gamlen's place once more, they caught him on the way back home, carrying bags of what looked like groceries. He gave them a confused look, but Leandra rushed up to him and threw her arms around him in a big hug.

Gamlen's shoulders tensed high up, his cheeks flaring with embarrassment. "Wha- Leandra! What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," she smiled, squeezing him harder. "I just love you so much. And I'm so sorry that I yelled at you those years back. I love you, Gamlen. You saved us."

Gamlen shot an alarmed look at Javeen, shaking his head as if to ask what the hell happened. Javeen just smiled, and shrugged. Gamlen's eyes raced back and forth as he realized people were starting to stare. His face was completely flushed. "That's great dear sister, but let's go inside, ok? You-You're embarrassing me!"

Leandra laughed, taking pity on him and letting go. They entered that old, familiar house, too small for even one person to live in, let alone four and a dog. They sat at the table, and it struck Javeen that even when they lived in this house, they barely sat at the table together. They didn't have meals and talk about their day, or their troubles. Too much anger. Too much to do outside these walls. That wasn't normal. Her throat tightened up. None of it was normal.

Gamlen glanced at his sister awkwardly. "Soo," he said, "what brought this on? Not that I'm, uh, ungrateful for the apology- it's about time, I say- but it came out of nowhere."

"I just...you're still here, Gamlen," Leandra cried, "Carver is gone and Bethany will never be allowed to leave the Circle... I-I need to hold on to the family that can stay." She took his hands, squeezing them. "Please, Gamlen. Come live in the estate. You belong there just as much as I do. That's our home."

"I already told you, Lowtown suits me more."

"You don't deserve to live here all alone, only living off what I give you. You're an Amell. You're my brother. I should be the one helping you and looking after you, and sharing all that I have. You are just as much as a noble as I am. And I never would have survived the Blight without you."

Gamlen stared at Leandra, his brow burrowed in thought. He glanced at Javeen and smirked. "And what about you, girl? I can't imagine you'd agree to this. The estate belongs to you, really."

She always thought Gamlen was an ass, and always argued with him when he treated mother poorly. It was his dumb decisions that lost the estate in the first place. But...he had been hurting. And alone. Mother was moving on. It was time to put it all behind them. And hey, she was an asshole too.

"We have plenty of room," she said. "You did help us survive. And what mother wants is more than enough for me."

Flabbergasted, Gamlen looked back and forth between the two, and just sighed. "Maker. You're just like your father, you know that? Malcolm always did what Leandra wanted. Bent over backwards to please her. Annoyingly always so level headed. And you look like him, you have his name. I hated that guy, and I can't ever escape him."

"Gamlen!" Leandra scolded.

"What? The brother is allowed to hate the man his sister married."

Leandra just shook her head and smiled. "He was a good man."

Gamlen nodded. "I'm sure he was. But he still took you from us. I get to be mad at him. And dying and leaving you alone, Maker what an asshole."

Javeen had a bone to pick. "What do you mean, I have his name? What are you talking about?"

Mother and Gamlen exchanged a look. "Oh, it's..." Mother took one of Javeen's hands. "Well...your father, he had...a very hard life before us. He came from far, far away. He was forced to leave, he said. And he wanted to forget it all. 'Malcolm' is a name he adopted to...to forget, and stay safe. He never told us what happened."

To not tell mother...father must have been devastated. And it must have been dangerous, more dangerous than anything they went through when they were still kids and moving from place to place. "What..what was his name? Did he tell you that?"

"Jeevan," Leandra smiled. "That was his name. I asked if I should call him that, but he refused. But when you were born...something in him changed. He spent his whole life running from his past, but he wanted to give you just a piece. A small piece. He was so stubborn, but he couldn't let it go entirely. He said he couldn't keep his past for himself, but if you carried that small piece, he would be okay."

"I...huh." She didn't know what to say. She had no idea that was what happened. Father had always maintained that sentimentality was at best a short relief, but at worst...he said it was like wearing shoes with the strongest adhesive. Trying to walk forward...would always be folly. But this went beyond sentimentality. Why couldn't he have told her when he was still alive? Maybe he planned to, but never got the chance. Maybe this was why he insisted on teaching her everything. "I guess being similar to him was inevitable."

"Oh, honey, you are your own person. There's many things about you that your father never was, and was so proud of."

Javeen nodded. She knew that to be true.

* * *

A few weeks passed, and Javeen finally fell into a tolerable schedule between Kirkwall and the Compound. A new addition to the estate happened not too long after visiting the alienage, but it wasn't Gamlen. He was still on the fence about that decision. No, the addition was an elven woman named Orana, who they rescued from Danarius' previous apprentice. Having a servant made Javeen feel uncomfortable, but she took solace in that she was paying her generously and providing her protection, in case Danarius was as keen on all of his slaves as he was to Fenris.

Javeen had a handful of letters for mother to address, and sought out Orana to see if she knew where mother was. "Oh," the blonde elf smiled, "she said she was going to visit a flower shop today. She's been going to a lot of those lately."

Javeen blinked. "Oh, for the garden?"

Orana tilted her head. "I'm not too sure. She never comes back with flowers. Maybe none of the shops had any to her liking?"

Hm. Maybe mother was developing a new hobby other than the garden, or maybe she just wanted to get out of the house more. She thanked Orana, and thought nothing more of it.

That would become her biggest regret.


	18. All That Remains

It started with a simple question.

"Bodahn, do you know where mother is?"

The dwarf shrugged and gave Javeen a smile. "With her suitor, perhaps?"

"What suitor?"

"The one who keeps bringing her white lilies?"

A sudden, distant scream filled Javeen's ears. The scream was made up of a dozen voices, all recognizable. Carver's. Bethany's. Father's. An ogre. A bandit she killed. So many others that she didn't have time to name. But god, they screamed. They screamed so loud. She stood there, frozen, even as Gamlen bombarded her with questions.

doyouknowanythingaboutwhitelilieswhyaren'tyousayinganythingTALKTOME

WHERE'S LEANDRA

* * *

"You cannot acknowledge that every human is capable of raising children. And yet, many who cannot still do. Why do they do this?"

Javeen opened her mouth and closed it, her throat tightening. A difficult subject for today's lesson. "Because humans love their children."

She blurted it out, defensively and quick. Surprised at herself she shook her head. "But, you're right. Not everyone should or want to. But I think it would be hard for anyone to have it and then have it taken."

Kaaras frowned. "They are not taken."

Javeen rubbed her forehead. "No. I...they're not. This is something that we will always be at odds with. It's as sensitive as discussing funeral rites or souls or religion. Family."

"In the Qun, we do not expect every Qunari is capable of raising offspring. So they are given to those who can. We are taught, and we feel, that is correct. And yet, any outsider treats this as if it is..."

Javeen sighed. "As if it's the worst thing you could ever do?"

He nodded. He stared at his cup for a moment, brow furrowed. "I can see that it is...difficult to understand."

"The relationship between child and guardian will always be a complicated thing. There's no right answer." Javeen put up a hand before Kaaras could speak. "And I know the Qun to you will always be right. And if you, and the kids involved, accept it and lead healthy, fulfilling lives, then I see no reason to call it a mistake." She chuckled. "But that would also mean you have to acknowledge that our way isn't always a failure, too."

"That is difficult, if you consider both kadan and the newest viddathari."

"Those," Javeen nodded and taking a swing of tea, "are perfect examples of when it goes horribly wrong, and I don't blame you for thinking that it's universal. Bad parenting hurt your partner. Joanna will be scarred for life. But, I like to think my parents were one of the successes."

"Oh?"

She grinned. "Extremely muddy and flawed, with a lot of bumps and apologies along the way. But still, I am left with a sense of completion regarding them, a warmth. This could be just my opinion but...I think it's people like me who should look out for people like Joanna and the Mashaar. Because yes, it doesn't always work. And they need the support. Like the Qun, like a family. It just depends on what you need."

Kaaras smiled gently. "You are rambling, my friend."

"Probably. Like I said, this isn't an easy topic, and I'm no expert." Javeen leaned back on the very comfortable couch. "I'm learning from this too. I've never had to explain this before."

Javeen hesitated to ask him the very personal and possibly sore subject question she'd been holding onto for the last fifteen minutes. But it was related. "What about the Mashaar? How do converts usually...uh, react to this, I guess is the best way to say it."

Nodding, Kaaras leaned forward, resting his chin on intwined fingers. "For converts it can be difficult. If they cannot accept our way, then they do not breed. That way, there is no struggle created. For some, though this is very rare, they become tamrassans. For kadan, she took time to study and reflect, and found she could accept it. She realized she did not want to be a parent in the way that humans do."

"If they can't accept and don't...breed, are they not allowed to have mates?"

"They can. Not every Qunari is required to breed." He gave her an almost disapproving look. "Something that human society forgets."

That was the damn truth. Human society didn't know how to leave a childless human alone. She had a feeling that was what he meant, but decided to poke further. "What do you mean?"

"Overpopulation is just as detrimental to a society as starvation."

Javeen laughed, knowing it was a joke. A half-joke. A three quarters joke that did have a point. "You got me there. There are a ton of us."

"And you don't support each other."

She sighed, and nodded. "On the whole, no. That's why we look out for our own, and are capable of hurting others so easily."

As the conversation winded down, Javeen helped gather up the teacups and dishes as she normally did. Kaaras stared at his friend as he also cleared the table. "For what it is worth to you, these lessons...are helpful."

Javeen chuckled. "And not confusing?"

"They are. Extremely." He smiled. "But when are people not confusing in some way? Life has never been a straight line you could easily explain or predict. Not even the Qun can claim that."

"The only thing you can do," she grinned, "is try to be as prepared as possible for whatever comes your way."

* * *

Useless words for a useless being.

If felt like someone else was controlling her body. She could move, gather people, ask them if they knew anything, but Javeen wasn't there. She was back in that dream with father, surrounded by white and scribbled out letters that were once the words she wrote in her letter to Merrill. He refused to speak to her, the smoke from his pipe floating around his face and masking his expression. She tried to say _Where's mom_ , but nothing but smoke came out of her mouth. A choking, terrible smoke that burned her throat. She wanted to scream, join in with the screams she could still hear, but she couldn't.

Javeen found a kid who saw mother and a man together, giving the child a small fortune for his information. Then...then she found the trail.

It was blood. His blood, his deception to make her help him. The smoke covering father's face grew all the more violent and large. It clouded her mind, she couldn't think straight. Merrill hugged her from behind as Javeen swayed and fell to her knees in front of the first drop, muttering words no one could hear.

"I'm a bloodmage," Merrill cried desperately, "I can track it, I can find her, please ma'Vhenan _please get up_."

Father's body was completely covered in smoke, with two glowing eyes where his should be. She had to do this without him. Javeen gripped the dirt, forcing her shaky legs to fucking _MOVE_. "Go," she said, taking one step, then two. Merrill held her still, keeping her balanced.

All of them were there, all but Aveline. She was coordinating the guard to search for mother. They all followed Merrill's lead, even Fenris and Anders who put aside their distrust for tonight. But they were _here_. She wanted so much to run to the Compound, find Kaaras and the healer and the Arishok so they could coordinate a search and be by her side too, but there was no time. And that would put them in danger. It struck her in that moment, just how many people who could and would help her, and but for a brief second she felt so warm and loved that she could cry.

But it only lasted for a second, as they found the next drop. And the next, and the next, and the next.

Eventually, they found an old place, from years ago. The warehouse where she found the bones of a missing woman. God fucking dammit, she had forgotten about this place, when she should have focused her energy and solved that fucking case even if it was on her own and-

 _Oh god please don't let my mom be in there._

Javeen charged in, her jaw clenched in anger as demons rose from the floor, just like it did all those years ago. _Did these demons touch her?_ Searing anger pumped through her veins as she drew her first arrow, but arrows wouldn't be enough pain. She took her dagger into her hand and leaped into the middle, stabbing and raking every last bit of demon flesh she could reach.

Demon blood burned when it got all over you, but Javeen put that pain at the very back of her mind where it belonged. Merrill didn't even protest, and continued to track the blood. There were fewer drops in here, but still a small trace. Javeen concentrated only on her efforts, eyes wildly going back and forth from her to the room, searching for even a glimpse of mother anywhere. She didn't even feel it as Anders healed her.

"Here," Merrill called, standing over a cellar door.

"This wasn't here before," Javeen said, wincing at the clear desperation in her voice now.

She threw the door open, jumping down into the dark depths of this basement with her daggers ready. At first glace, it was empty, but flames crackled in the floorboards and Javeen went back into a frenzy, cutting down every demon that showed itself. Her companions bit back every criticism and comments just to tell her to _slow down_ \- but how could they ever ask that of her right now? They never saw this side of her before. This...this cornered Hawke lashing out stupidly at everything. She was always more calculated than that.

Tearing her eyes through the room, her heart stopped when she saw a figure sprawled on a table, unmoving. Javeen ran over to her, it was a woman in finery oh god no was it mother no-

Javeen jolted back when she rolled the body over and it wasn't mother. It was a noble woman she recognized, from gatherings and...and whatever it did not matter. What mattered, and what made Javeen want to throw up, was that this woman's fingers were missing.

"Hawke..." Varric began to say after a long pause of silence, but didn't get the chance to finish. Javeen pushed past them all, delirious in determination to forget what she just saw.

But the screaming in her head just got louder.

The further they went inside this...this dungeon, the more pungent it became. A thick smell of decay and rot throbbed throughout their senses, but Javeen didn't hear the sounds of her companions retching behind her. Instead, she saw a cloud of smoke, like those billows of smoke from a Qunari incense, coming from a small corner on the floor just ahead. It was the same colour as the smoke covering father's face. Kneeling next to it, there was a mound of dirt that looked like someone had kicked to cover something. She brushed away the dirt quickly, her fingers twitching once when she realized what it was.

She picked up mother's necklace, the one she always wore and never took off, and stifled a sob as she stared at the amber. She was dead. If she didn't have this with her she was dead.

Merrill noticed the necklace and she threw herself onto Javeen's back again. Her hands shook as she clutched her lover's shoulders. "She just dropped it...Hawke it only means that. There's always still a chance, ma'vhenan, please..."

Standing up was at this point instinct rather than an action. It was sluggish and clumsy, Merrill having to steady her. Javeen's body may have given up, but Merrill was right. There was always a chance. There had to be a chance. And if there was...mother needed her now.

Ahead was a strange bright light, strange because the rest of this prison was so grey and lifeless everywhere else. The light was coming from dozens upon dozens of lit candles, surrounding what looked like a shrine...and its source of worship a large painting hung on the wall.

A fresher wave of dread enveloped Javeen as they drew closer to the painting. A woman was depicted on it, regal and royal in finery and slight smile on her face. It couldn't be her but...this woman looked so much like mother. Like a twin. There was no family history of her having a twin...but why was this here?

"Ugh gross," Isabella hissed, stepping back from a piece of paper she had stepped on. There were papers and books everywhere, on the floor, on a table, but the one she stepped on had blood on it. Javeen picked up the paper quickly, barely able to read the smudged contents. Something about the experiments being too much...too risky. Only signed by the letter "O."

Looking through the books briefly, they all seemed to be about bloodmagic and...the study of resurrection. Then it hit her. "He's building her again..." Javeen said suddenly, that flash of brilliance overcome with the worst fear she had ever felt in her life. She stared at the woman on the painting, noticing all the slight differences from mother. "Piece by piece."

Her companions all paled.

Leandra was the head.

The walls of this place vomited that smoke from her hallucination, the screams in her head the only thing she could hear; like when someone is deafened by a sudden, massive explosion. The smoke created a tunnel, blocking out everything else as if leading her somewhere. To her. She was wrong before, father was still with her here. Where else would father lead her?

When Javeen finally saw her, standing and wearing a dress that wasn't hers, there was a glimmer, a spark of hope. But her shoulders were hunched, facing away from her. The posture was all wrong, all wrong. And then the thing turned around.

Her eyes were clouded, there was no way she could see anything. Veins of bloodmagic crept up her face like tiny vines, coming from a terrible source that made Javeen want to crumble into pieces. Heavy stitches ran across Leandra's neck, connecting the head onto a completely different body. It lurched forward, reaching towards her. If there was a battle going on around them, neither of them knew. It reached for her. How could she know if she couldn't see?

Javeen took two shaky steps forward. It knew who she was. Leandra was still in there, somehow. A demon tried to get into the space between them, but Javeen's dagger found it first. There was no thought that went into it.

When the two reached each other, the thing that was Leandra and other women long captured touched Javeen's face, then collapsed. Javeen caught it before it hit the ground, gently laying it in her lap. A very child-like question bubbled in her; maybe-maybe if she plucked the head off and put it back where she belonged and she would be okay again. Anders could help. He was the best healer around.

But then it spoke, and she knew...she knew there was nothing she could do.

"I knew you would come," Leandra smiled, her voice raspy and weak, "I knew you wouldn't leave me down here."

Tears, so many tears it made up for years of never shedding them, fell down onto Leandra's face and that only made her smile more. "My little girl is all grown up. You finally cried again." She wiped away some of the wetness off Javeen's cheeks, only to be filled again. "I feel...I feel like your mom again."

"You were always my mom," Javeen choked.

"I always will be. No matter where I am." Leandra sighed. A long, life ending sigh.

When she realized she was gone, Javeen searched her face for any signs of life. When she found none, she threw her head back and wailed, not stopping until her voice gave out.


	19. The Funeral

It was today.

The Viscount had put it together out in public, letting his gardens become the place where Javeen did not want to go. So many people gathered for the funeral; she could see it from her window. The flowers alone brought such colour to the Viscount's estate, like a sea of yellow, blues, and pinks. No white flowers were allowed to come near Leandra's pyre. Javeen would kill whoever brought those on spot, she swore it.

She shook her head. It wasn't even just _mother's_ pyre. Her breathing stopped and she gasped at the very thought, clutching her chest. No one found mothers body. All that was left of her was that atrocity...that...that stitched together monster that Javeen had held as she passed. Her ashes were going to be mixed with other women, other victims.

It was too much to bear. Javeen gasped for breath, her body shuddering, rejecting. She couldn't do it. She couldn't see it. She couldn't accept it.

 _I can't breathe this air._

She ran. Took the back way to sneak around the manor, away from the streets where so many people gathered to pay their respects. Her companions were already there. Her sister was there. She hesitated before scaling the wall. She looked back towards the where the funeral was taking place, picturing Bethany there, all alone and waiting for her.

"I'm so sorry, Beth..." she whispered, and jumped down the wall.

She didn't stop until she reached the only place where she could breathe. She clutched mother's necklace in her hand, unable to let it go ever since she found it in the dirt. The guards at the Compound raised their brows at her state, but nodded regardless and let her pass.

The smell of that familiar spice filled her lungs, making her almost hyperventilate at the lack of air. It was a miracle that the incense had somewhat of a calming effect on her, and her breathing slowed to a more healthy pace. She kept moving forward.

At this time, the Arishok would have retired to his tent for the early evening. She hesitated at the entrance, realizing she just entered this place with no warning or invite. You couldn't just run to the Arishok and be allowed into his space like that, not when you weren't Qunari. Her hand shook just before touching the canvas, but then the Arishok opened it for her.

The two stood in silence for a few moments, until the Arishok said, "Enter."

They sat in their usual spots, across from one another. As usual, there was tea, though no second cup for her. It was fine. She was unexpected, and honestly, she couldn't bring herself to eat or drink anything anyway. They sat in silence, the Arishok watching her. Waiting for her to speak. But her throat closed up.

He broke the silence. "Why are you here, Hawke."

She took a deep breath. "Because I'm a coward."

The Arishok grunted, more neutral than anything. Agreement, non agreement. He took a sip of his tea. "I heard what happened. Your Viscount is the host, correct?"

Javeen nodded. Dumar was simply appeasing the outcry that came from mother's death; many nobles close to her demanded something be done when they failed to protect her, and so many other women.

And you know what?

They were right.

She failed her. The guard failed her. The investigation being dropped three years ago failed her. She and Aveline weren't speaking right now.

"I can't...I couldn't see her like that. Not after finding her."

He shook his head. "Your funerals do not make sense. Why concern yourself over the shell that is no longer her?"

Javeen let out a tired sigh, unable to argue or think or care. "I don't know."

The Arishok paused, setting down his tea and regarding her more fully. Hawke always had an explanation regarding human rituals, even if they were ludicrous. But...it was understandable that words failed her this time. "Do you have anything of your mother that represents who she was?"

Blankly, Javeen only looked into his eyes, hoping for something that made more sense to her. "What?"

"Her purpose. Something...that if you look upon it, you only think of her."

Her eyes lowered to her hand, still holding the necklace. Of course. That it was not around her neck still was wrong, this was mother. The golden amber of it was her colour, this warm, sweet thing that reminded her of honey and comfort and love. She presented it to him, hand shaking. "This."

He nodded. It didn't matter that it was different, whatever that tiny amulet represented was correct. "And what do you remember, looking at this amulet?"

"That..." Javeen shook her head and laughed. "All the times she almost sold it. When we were in harder times and needed money. But we never let her. We always found another way."

The Arishok chuckled. "To think of someone selling their identity...it is almost unthinkable and would result in death in the Qun. But she attempted it for the good of the whole. A complicated notion."

Javeen's smile was weak, but that she was smiling... It felt impossible. "I'm sure your scholars would have a field day unpacking it."

"And looking upon it, how do you feel?"

Javeen wiped at a tear. "Warm. And empty."

"It will for a long time. Such is the nature of grief."

Clutching the amulet to her, Javeen whispered, "Can I stay...for a little while?"

The Arishok regarded her more cooly. "Do what you come here for, basalit-an."

* * *

Since he had his own life, Kaaras was not immediately available for a surprise lesson. Of course. She expected nothing less, and decided that it was better to wait until he was finished, rather than giving up and heading back to...to everything else. She went back to the place where she spent a lot of her time waiting, watching, and studying. The high sentry station only used at the latest hours of night.

It was also the place she and mother had their picnic together.

God. Even as she tried to run from it, mother was everywhere. People accused her of sticking her nose into every part of Kirkwall, but the same could be said of mother. Even in Javeen's safest places, she was there. There was no where to run.

She leaned back against the wood of the post, closing her eyes. It only took a few moments for her to drift off into sleep, a thing avoided in the last week. She was afraid of the dreams.

Even as she began to fall, she begged someone, anyone, that she would not dream. A wish that was not granted.

In her dream, she opened her eyes. She was sitting at a long table, food in fancy dinner plates and all types of cutlery placed beside them. The food was all rotten and infested with flies. Glancing around, she recognized this place as the basement where mother died. There were other people at the table too; father sat two seats down-that incense smoke coming from his ears. Mother was at the end, but she was just a floating head and did nothing but smile. A few seats in front of mother sat Carver...but his body had twisted brutally a few times so he was leaning on the table, facing away from Javeen.

Beside her stood Quentin. He was holding a pair of tweezers, of which he was cleaning with a white cloth. "Okay Hawke," he said, "I'm going to take your eyes now."

Javeen frowned. "Why? There's nothing good about them."

"I need them."

"But-"

"I need them. They're not going to be able to function someday anyway. Hold still."

Javeen sighed. "Okay."

Quentin took her chin in one hand, the tweezers shoved neatly into her left eye first. There was no pain, but an odd sensation of metal rummaging around behind her eye. She felt her fingers twitch against the leather of the chair she was sitting in. Then, with a tug, Quentin pulled her left eye right out of her socket, examining it before putting it into a jar filled with a clear liquid. It stared back at Javeen, the unnatural blue glowing.

"Almost done," he said, and his voice was so gentle.

He took out her right eye just the same, Javeen heard the wet plunk! of her second eye hitting the liquid in the jar. Completely blind, she listened to Quentin's footsteps as he moved away from the table. And then-

Someone was shaking her. "Hawke-" a voice said. "Hey, wake up."

She took a long, shuddering breath as she opened her eyes, seeing a fuzzy Camlen in front of her. She saw him. Her eyes were still there. She quickly rubbed them, letting them focus better.

It was dark outside. She had been out for a few hours, at least. Clenching her stomach to keep the sick feeling in her down, she kept a neutral face to Camlen. "Is Kaaras available now?"

"Y-yeah, he's-" Camlen frowned at her. "You sure you shouldn't be...at home right now?"

"I have no idea what I should be doing right now," Javeen said, quickly getting to her feet. Camlen stared at her for a moment, then moved out of the way so she could make her way down.

Kaaras was relaxing in his tent when she found him, in the home they shared for all that time. It was always nice to come back to this tent, to its comfortable couch to its plain atmosphere. Un-chaotic and comfortable. But unlike all the other times she came back here, there was no tea for her waiting on the round table in the middle. He was silent as she sat in her spot, not unlike the spot designated for her in the Arishok's tent, and waited for him to acknowledge her appearance. There was a letter in front of him.

Before she could ask him what it was, Kaaras spoke. "There will be no lesson today, Hawke."

"But-"

"Not today. This is not the time for it."

Javeen swallowed to keep her throat from closing. "Yeah. You're right."

He smiled gently. "Instead of a lesson, how about I show you the progress we have made?"

He pushed the letter towards her. It was signed by the Viscount. She took it in her hands, reading it over carefully. She re-read it several times, not believing it. The Viscount was inviting a small, diplomatic party to open a negotiation between Kirkwall and the Qunari. They did not need to leave their weapons behind as they were requested before, only that their weapons must be bound to them. The same would be said of the Viscount and his diplomats.

"This is..." Javeen smiled, "a good compromise."

"It is acceptable," Kaaras agreed. "I have been chosen to lead this negotiation. The Arishok must stay to lead the rest of us, however...I believe that I am a prudent choice."

She handed the letter back to him. "You are perfect for it. From teacher to student, you are ready."

"I still have much to learn. But it is good to learn from experience, than just from words."

As Javeen nodded her agreement, suddenly someone burst through the entrance of the tent, eye wide and short of breath. Joanna, in her third month of being Qunari, decided not to wear an eyepatch to cover up the scar that ran down her face. Her hair was still damp from a bath. She had been in a hurry.

"Hawke," Joanna exclaimed, "you need to go."

Joanna had grabbed Javeen's hand and pulled her up before anything else could be questioned, and Kaaras chuckled as she was dragged away. Just outside the tent, Javeen wrenched her hand out of Joanna's grasp, planting her feet firmly into the dirt.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Taking you to your mom's funeral," Joanna said firmly, grabbing for Javeen's hand again. Javeen easily kept it out of her surprisingly strong grasp.

Javeen's jaw went hard. "And why are _you_ doing this, Joanna?"

"Because!" Joanna turned to face her, her eye welling up slightly. She took a breath, calming herself. "Because. If you run from it, you'll never forgive yourself. I...when Papa died I-I couldn't..." She shook her head. "I made that mistake. And even as you pretend that you're fine, that you're fine for missing it, you will never forget that you weren't there on that day."

"I've already-"

Joanna stomped her foot once. "You are part of Kirkwall, and that's important to you. Mourn how you want, but don't miss this part of it. Besides, I-I want to pay my respects to Mistress Hawke too. I liked her. So let's go together."

Javeen hesitated. That wave of fear that made her run in the first place bubbled in her stomach, but looking at Joanna...she was right. She couldn't run from it. She had to face it, and accept the reality of it all. She owed her mother her presence at least, and the other women too. Javeen was responsible for all of them. She took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's go."

The streets were quiet for once. Even when dark, there was always something happening-like a bandit attack or a drunken brawl. It was a relief for both of them as they walked. Slowly, as Javeen still needed to build up the strength to face that grave. Slowly, because Joanna hadn't stepped foot out of the Compound ever since she first arrived there. She was taking in all the familiar sights, sounds. Ones that she would say goodbye to, for good one day.

Javeen glanced at her. She could only guess the reasons why Joanna missed her father's funeral. Maybe it was too much, maybe her mother had made it too scary. One was understandable, one was monstrous. Joanna noticed the stare, and looked ahead and smiled slightly.

"There were so many reasons why I missed it. He was my world. And when he was gone...everything changed. Mother used to treat me with kindness, if you can believe it. But when father was gone, all that kindness vanished without a trace. Maybe because it was never real in the first place. But it made her anger so much harder because I could remember all the good times too."

"Joanna-"

"I was overwhelmed. So I stayed at home, like a fool. I only made her anger worse. I thought if I mourned alone that would be right because I had been alone all along." Her lip trembled. "But that wasn't true.. I wasn't alone. Mother was over but...my brothers loved him too."

Joanna rarely spoke about her brothers. She quite clearly got visibly more upset when the conversation shifted to them. Javeen thought they were a bunch of typical, idiotic nobles too consumed with their own wants, but maybe they were important to Joanna...maybe they weren't like their mother.

"I abandoned them when I should have been beside them, reading the rites. Maybe that's why they are so loyal to her now."

Javeen gritted her teeth. "If that's the case Joanna, then they are not worth the pain."

They were silent after that, finding their way through the streets, avoiding the occasional glace their way. When Javeen saw the mess of flowers spread in the streets, her heart pounded in her ears. They approached the grave cautiously, trying there best not to step on any petals. Maker, but there were so many.

The grave was so decorated with flowers you could barely see the stone underneath. She glanced at the burned pyre not too far from the grave itself, still smelling of smoke. It had gone just as it should. It would be cleaned up tomorrow and an urn filled with her ashes would be sent to her home in the morning. There had already been talk of a small statue of her, but Javeen had refused. If she saw that everyday she would lose her goddamn mind. She knelt before the small grave, brushing the flowers away enough for her to read it.

'Leandra Hawke'

Javeen smiled. They hadn't used the Amell surname.

Joanna stepped up to the grave, her hands nervous and biting her lip. Javeen held back a chuckle. She was nervous as she was. "What's wrong?"

"Um, it's just...I don't know how Qunari...you know. Do funerals?"

That time, Javeen did laugh. God, what an amazing feeling to laugh right now. "That's okay. You'll learn one day. For her at least, you can do whatever you want."

Jonna smiled, and knelt beside her. "She was always so kind. I only met her a few times...and every time she never ignored me, or...or made me feel pitied. She didn't treat me like a bastard."

Javeen nodded. "Probably because her parents thought of us as bastards. So if she ever..." Javeen swallowed back the tightness in her throat. "If she ever treated another bastard like that, how could she face us?"

"I'm sorry Leandra..." Joanna sighed, running her fingers over mother's name on the grave. "We will miss you so much."

Then Joanna stood up, moving a few steps away to give her some space. It was Javeen's turn to say goodbye. She took a shaky breath, clutching the necklace in her hand. She wanted to drape the necklace around the grave...but someone would steal it eventually. She would keep the necklace on her. At least for now.

She read her mother's name over and over, trying to get words out. She had to calm herself down. Concentrating on her breathing, like she did when she meditated, she shut out all background noise, concentrating only on the immediate surroundings around her. She faced the grave with all the focus she could muster.

And finally, she spoke, though it was only a whisper.

"I'm sorry mother. I'm so sorry I didn't save you." She squeezed her hands into painfully tight fists. "It was my fault. My fault, it was all my fault."

She covered her face as tears stung the corners of her eyes. "I'm going to miss you so much."

Her eyes went wide as mother's voice filled her mind.

 _You can still save her._

And Javeen heard it. A footstep. Like a shadow cat, Javeen lifted herself off the ground and took out her claws, her dagger, and caught another dagger in its grasp. The enemy dagger had been aimed at Joanna's back.

The two were stuck in stalemate as Joanna shrieked and ducked out of the way. The assailant shoved back, jumping a few steps backwards to recover themself. Javeen then glared, and moved herself between them and Joanna, keeping an arm in front of their clear target.

Then she noticed what kind of dagger the assailant held.

Joanna gasped. "That's...that's a Qunari blade..."

The assassin was wearing a mask of course, but they certainly were not Qunari. While the Qun definitely had its assassins, no culture was void of those, the Qunari would not send an assassin against their own. "Stay back, Joanna," Javeen said, figuring out exactly who sent them.

There's only one person who wanted Joanna dead. And she wanted to frame the Qunari.

The assassin eyed their surroundings. People who heard Joanna's scream were coming out of their homes to see what was going on. The assassin likely assumed that this had been their only chance to get at her, since this was the first time she left the Compound since she was taken there. And they couldn't risk the chance that Javeen would walk her back. So, when Javeen was distracted...

Her jaw tightened. She couldn't let this bastard get away.

She grabbed Arzhela and notched an arrow, drawing back in seconds. The assassin slid sideways and flitted towards her, making sure not to run in a straight line. They were too quick to hit. They jumped and readied their dagger, confident in their close distance.

In a split second, Javeen lowered Arzhela, but kept the arrow in one hand. She ducked the slice from the Qunari dagger and plunged the arrow into their shoulder, with as much strength as she could.

The assassin grunted something in a different language and again jumped back a few steps. But Javeen noticed their other hand move strangely, shifting under their cloak, and before she could tell what was happening, a small bolt lodged into her side.

She ignored the burning pain in her side and the concerned shouts of Joanna. The assassin used that moment to turn tail and start to flee. Javeen snarled and notched another arrow. "Oh fuck you, no you don't!"

The arrow lodged itself into the back of their leg, just as they were climbing up a house down the street. They slipped and fell, their eyes growing panicked as they saw Javeen barreling towards them, ignoring the growing redness welling at her side.

As it turned out, he would not be able to enjoy any wine or pretty poets again.

Javeen rested a hand where the bolt was, twitching at the pain. A small, hand sized crossbow like the one they used were rare, and expensive. And when you thought of expensive assassins, you thought of Crows.

She eyed the dagger, picking it up as Joanna rushed to her side. "Oh Make-I mean, oh Flames, Hawke, are you okay?"

Javeen nodded. In the distance, at the Viscount's keep doors, a familiar shade of orange hair caught her eye. She sighed. "Sorry Joanna, I'm gonna have to deal with some bullshit before I can take you back home."

"Back home? But-"

Javeen groaned in pain. "Just give me a second."

When Aveline arrived minutes later, Javeen wasted no time. She handed Aveline the dagger. "Evidence. Keep it until I can come back and testify."

Aveline, who was red eyed and looked exhausted, just gaped at her possible ex friend. "Wh- evidence. What are you even talking about when you are bleeding out? Go to the Keep and get to a bloody doctor!"

"Gotta take her home first." Javeen nodded towards Joanna, then pointed at the corpse. "Assassin. Possible Crow. Sent by you-know-who. Will testify later."

Aveline glanced at Joanna. "Joanna Linette..."

Javeen snapped her fingers angrily. "Assassin. Right there. Deal with it."

"Oh for-" Aveline snapped back. "Go. Get. A healer."

"I WILL," Javeen yelled, ignoring the searing pain that came with it, "WHEN I TAKE HER HOME. NOW DO YOUR FUCKING JOB FOR ONCE!"

She didn't even feel bad as Aveline wilted, and all her commanding sense of self went away in a second. There was no way Aveline would force her to stay now. She turned towards Joanna and nodded forward. "Let's go."

"B-but-"

When Javeen didn't stop, Joanna followed, taking one last terrified glance at the assassin that tried to kill her. And the woman who looked like she was about to cry.


	20. Trial and Murder

"Silence," the Viscount called towards the room filled with excited whispers and gossips from the nobles invited to witness this. Javeen sat with impatient arms across her chest, in the witness section of the courtroom. Seneshal Bran sat next to her, which was grating on her ability to stay civil. Although...she glanced up. There was another who threatened to do more than that.

Lacrissa sat across from her, her face masking rage and fear. _Oh, murderous noble stain,_ Javeen seethed, _if you could feel what I'm feeling, you wouldn't be able to hide your fear._

At the command of silence, the noble's quieted down. Dumar nodded to his second, Bran, who stood and announced the reason for this trial. "Two days ago," Bran started, "an assassin attacked Joanna Linett, a...former noble from the Linett family. The assassin of course failed, but evidence has shown Qunari involvement with this plot. The attempted murder weapon is of Qunari make, and the identity of the assassin is still unknown. It is thanks to the efforts of...Serah Hawke beside me, that Joanna still lives. As a prime witness and her testimony, we will decide whether action should be taken against the Qunari for this...terrible crime."

Javeen's blood boiled. If these people knew anything about the Qunari this trial would be thrown out as foolish. But if it prevented Kirkwall from attacking the Qunari, of course she would do anything to stop it.

Viscount Dumar nodded at her, his eyes downcast. "Thank you, Serah Hawke. We realize that this is a difficult time for you."

She couldn't think of mother right now. Her ashes arrived yesterday and she didn't even have time to acknowledge-

It didn't matter. Right now, she needed to focus. Focus. "Let's get this over with."

"Then please, Serah Hawke, let us begin with your story."

And so she did. She recalled the events two days ago, down to the last moment. She did not include what she said to Aveline. Aveline, who was present for this, stood way in the back, trying to hide behind the nobles in front. She wouldn't even look at her. Nor did Javeen include the looks on her friends faces as she and Joanna returned to the Compound, and told them what had happened.

The rage in the Arishok's eyes.

 _I will fix it. I will fix it._

When she was finished, the Viscount rubbed his chin in thought. "And you believe the Qunari are not responsible for this attack?"

"There isn't a shred of Qunari activity in this plot."

That was when Lacrissa raised her hand. "If I may speak, Viscount Dumar. It was, after all, my daughter who was the victim in this."

 _And you the mastermind,_ Javeen seethed.

Dumar nodded, allowing her to speak. "I wish to point out the obvious pattern in the relationship between the nobility of Kirkwall and the Qunari," Lacrissa said, clearly a practiced speech. "My daughter. Serah Hawke...and Saemus, your son. I do not think it is a coincidence that three of ours have been... coerced to their side."

At the mention of Saemus, the Viscount's eyes went frigid. "And? What is the motivation in this then? If they are purposely converting nobles, why try to kill Joanna now?"

"This is the second time they have tried to kill my daughter," Lacrissa pressed, "they are striking where it hurts the most. Converting, then killing. A show of absolute power-"

"That's dumb," Javeen interrupted, which caused a wave of whispers throughout the room. Lacrissa's face went deep red as she glared back at her. "This whole plan was dumb. It only exists due to a complete lack of understanding of what the Qunari are, how they operate, how they live. This assassin wasn't Qunari. Anyone with a brain could figure that out. Whoever came up with this was sloppy."

"All cultures have assassins, Hawke-" Lacrissa snarled.

"Yeah, no shit. But they don't use the weapons of dead Qunari."

Javeen threw a glance at the Viscount. A fact that he now knew was true. Dumar's eyes went wide. "What do you mean? The weapon didn't belong to-"

"It belonged to an Ashaad, who died in the Bone Pit not long ago. His weapon had disappeared which prevented the qunari from a proper funeral. Which trust me," Javeen glared right back at Lacrissa, "was sorely felt by all the qunari here. To them, the Ashaad's soul was missing. And you want to tell me they used that weapon in an assassination attempt against one of _their_ own? That makes no sense. It's unthinkable."

The whispers only got more excited and loud. The Viscount raised his hand, his lips thinned. "Enough! Enough, all of you." He sighed. "Hawke. I thank you for your information. It is true, we lack a basic understanding of their culture...and it has prevented us from rational decision making in regards to them. I am...I am the worst culprit in regards to that." He turned to the crowd. "We cannot blame the Qunari when we do not have the motivation for this. We must ask this: who would want Joanna Linett dead?"

"Yeah," Javeen said mockingly, "just _who_ would want the bastard child dead, if not the Qunari?"

Lacrissa finally snapped. "How dare you, you-you Qunari slut! I-"

"Woah, woah, did I say it was you?" Javeen laughed. "I guess when the glove fits and all."

"I will not stand for this," Lacrissa screamed, slamming her hands on the table in front of her. "How dare you slander my name, my family's name! If you were not a noble, Serah Hawke, I'd-"

Javeen smiled. "I dunno, you seem to be apt at warmongering. Though, to be fair, your plans suck. Best not to make a career out of it."

"ENOUGH," the Viscount yelled, though Javeen noticed he had paled quite a bit at the word 'warmongering.' "That is enough, you two! This trial is at its end. We must conduct a thorough investigation, before we point any fingers."

Javeen glared at him "Which was exactly what you didn't do for the Qunari with this trial. Trust me, it did not go unnoticed."

A healthy dose of fear shot through the Viscount, which he shook off with a guilty nod. "We will do this properly. We will investigate all the leads we have." He glanced at Lacrissa with a cold eye. "All of them. You are dismissed."

Lacrissa stared at Dumar, slack jawed and dumbfounded. Javeen left the courtroom quickly, though she beelined towards Dumar's office. There was yet another important detail about this that needed addressing.

* * *

Javeen hissed through her teeth as the healer pulled the bolt out of her side. It was long and thin, much easier to remove than a normal crossbow bolt. Still hurt like a bitch though. The healer pressed a clean cloth to her side as blood seeped from the wound. He nodded to Joanna, who was determined to continue working despite what literally just happened. "Vidathari, bring a Saarebas. Quickly now."

Joanna blinked, lost in thought, taking a few moments to process what he just asked. She shook her head once. "Y-yes, of course healer." And she ran out of the tent.

Javeen eyed the healer, his silence unnerving. "What, no jokes for me today?"

The healer tightened his lips. "Perhaps you do not understand the true horror of this."

"I know," Javeen nodded. "But, she's safe now. I'll deal with her mother, but you can at least-"

"Not that. Not that, Hawke."

Javeen had never heard that amount of fear in his voice. "Woah, hey, what's-"

"Hawke. So long as that weapon stays in the possession of Kirkwall, the Arishok has every reason to start a war. The Kaaras had to convince him not to storm the Keep."

A cold, very sharp shiver ran down her spine. No. No that's-

"If you care about us at all, you will bring it back to us. If you need me to beg, I will do it. We cannot abandon that soul while it rots in the hands of foreigners."

Now Javeen was running. Running to her friend that could destroy everything. Running, despite the yells of the healer to come back, you'll make the wound worse, but no, she ran. She threw open the entrance to the war tent, because that was what it was, a war tent, and grabbed the Arishok by his gigantic, muscular arms.

"I will get it back," she panted, sweat running down her face, "I promise you I will bring it back, safe. I will do this."

The Arishok placed a hand on her shoulder and said nothing.

* * *

When the Viscount saw her waiting at his door, he sighed and waved her away. "I apologize, serah Hawke, but I am not taking visitors at the moment-"

"Make an exception."

Dumar shook his head while opening the door to his office. "No. Contrary to your belief, I do have other work that needs to be do-"

Javeen slammed her hand onto the door, preventing him from moving further. "Oh, I assure you-" Javeen hissed, "that this is of the utmost importance."

Seneshal Bran, who was always at the Viscount's heels, made an impatient noise in his throat. "Now see here Hawke, you will not-"

Javeen raised one silencing finger at him, not taking her eyes off Dumar. "We need to talk. Now."

He took a long breath, biting back every bit he wanted to yell. But he relented, nodding for her to go in. Bran made a short, disgusted noise as he shook his head, turning to face away from the door. He would at least prevent anyone else from seeing him.

Javeen didn't even let the Viscount sit down. "I need to return the Quanri weapon to the Arishok. Immediately."

Dumar threw her a flabbergasted look. " _This_ is what this is about? Surely you know we cannot just release it. It is evidence."

"Do you want a war."

He stopped, that paleness returned. "What-"

Javeen stepped slowly towards him, her eyes wide and almost crazed. "Because if that is the case, then I will break into your study and take it back by force. If that's what it takes, I will do it. And in the end you will realize I prevented a very stupid and avoidable tragedy."

The Viscount slumped against his desk, rubbing his eyes. "Why... do you say there will be war? Have they spoken a plan of the sort?"

"Once again, you have underestimated them. Once again, you have failed to understand them." Javeen fought down a hysterical laugh. After everything that had happened all at once, she couldn't hold it back any longer. With every word she stepped closer to him, the desperation in her voice fluctuating. "You are a complete fool who won't listen. I said it in court you fucking-" She shook her head. "I have laid out the steps for you, given you enough information to make a rational decision, and yet here you are, still wondering why the Qunari hate us so much? You hold, in your heathen possession, one soul. A soul. And maybe you still somehow think they are unthinking, heartless beasts who do not care about their own, but you are so, _so_ wrong. They will fight, to the very last, to get that soul back. Humans have gone to war for less. One of the Arishok's subordinates had to talk him out of storming the Keep. So, Viscount Dumar, now that I have once again spelled it out for you, I ask you again: do you want a war?"

Now she was right in front of him, inches away. Dumar had to lean back to keep her from touching him. Oh, but now he was listening. "In the interest of keeping the peace, Dumar, I would strongly advise that you return the weapon. I'll even tell them you did it with no argument."

Speechless. He was utterly speechless. Nervous hands wiped away beading forehead sweat, and he finally managed to speak. "I'll have it delivered in the morning."

"No. I need it today."

Dumar rubbed his eyes and relented.

* * *

Wrapped in white cloth and placed in a fancy box, Javeen presented the dagger to the Arishok not two hours later. He took the dagger gently in his hands, examining it. His expression lost some of the hard rage that it had for the past few days. It was given to the one who would prepare the funeral for the lost Ashaad. And Javeen felt like she could breath again.

"You did well, Hawke." The Arishok stated, pouring himself some tea. They were in his tent, awaiting the preparations to be complete. It would take until much later tonight, but Javeen would stay for it.

She nodded. "Least I could do, really. I'm sure Dumar finally gets the importance of your tools now."

"A notion foreigners rarely understand." His brow raised slightly. "Though, this is not the first time an outsider has understood."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "During the Blight, I sent the Beresaad to find out what it was. Only one survived, and he had lost his blade in the process. He allied with the one who defeated the Blight."

Javeen's eyes went wide. "Woah, the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Yes. She was able to find his sword and thus he could return home. Another worthy of the title basalit-an."

Javeen leaned back and smiled. "Even here we heard lots of amazing things about her. But finding a lost blade in a war torn country within a year? I think that wins."

"Accomplishments are not competitions," the Arishok sighed. Javeen looked him over. Having been around him for so long, she could finally tell when something was off with him, and today he looked...tired. It was subtle, and she was sure he would go back to being his normal self once he left this tent, but it was there.

He really did trust her, then.

"You can always rely on me," Javeen said suddenly. "I'll do what it takes to keep the peace."

The Arishok raised his head to meet her eyes. "I cannot," the Arishok answered, "and you know why."

* * *

The funeral lasted for a few hours, rites were said in Qunlat so she could only follow so much. Bitterly, she chided herself that she was attending _this_ funeral, and not her mother's. God damn, that was still so fresh-it hadn't even been a week yet since hers. But this one, from what she could understand of it, it was peaceful. They concentrated more on honouring his life and what he accomplished for the Qun, rather than being sad that he was gone. All of it revolved around the dagger he once held in life.

Javeen clutched mother's necklace in her hand. She'd been too focused on her death that she forgot to celebrate who mother was. After seeing this...she swore to change that. And then maybe...maybe she could start to heal, in time.

It ended in quiet prayer, and when it did, the ones that attended the first switched with the guards who were still on duty, so that they could take their turn in their prayers. Joanna sought her out after it was done, her eye tired but still smiling still.

"I'm glad that I know what to do now..." she said as they walked towards the entrance. It was very late, and time for Javeen to head back home. "I wish I had some thing of pap- of my father, so I could...you know."

Javeen glanced at her. "How are you doing, Joanna?"

"I...I'm...adjusting." Javeen couldn't help but notice her shaking. "All I can hope for is that either she's put into jail or...we find what we are looking for and leave Kirkwall."

"Mmn."

Who knew if they'd even find evidence of Lacrissa's multiple crimes. Maybe she'd have to do it herself, as always, but if she had enough time to destroy the evidence...then it'll turn out just the same as the last time she tried to get the guard to actually do something-

Suddenly, there was a voice. At the gates. A shrill, drunken voice, that was all too familiar. Joanna recognized it immediately, her eye going wide.

"Where is she," the voice of Lacrissa shrieked, "I demand to speak-"

Joanna bit her lip and closed her eye as she shook. Then she opened her eye again, a determination in them. Javeen reached out for her. "Wait, don't-"

Joanna ran towards the gate. Javeen cursed and went after her.

The guards regarded Lacrissa stubbornly-if confused and annoyed- and they blinked in surprise as Joanna put a hand on one of their arms and walked forward. She faced down her mother with no fear showing.

"Oh, _there_ you are," Lacrissa mocked, though she was barely standing."You finally show yourself without that big beast of yours." She snickered. "Or that small one."

"What do you want, mother?" Joanna said through her teeth. Javeen made it to the gates, and which made Lacrissa scoff and throw her hands into the air.

"You again? Must you shove your big nose into every family business that I-" She ran trembling fingers through knotted hair. "This is private."

Javeen stepped forward, putting an arm between her and Joanna. "You have no family here."

Lacrissa laughed bitterly. "You know what the worst thing is? _You're right._ She was NEVER my family. But this stupid, backwards, pathetic place demanded I see her as a part of it. Gerald demanded that I force myself to treat her and accept-" Lacrissa spat. "And it was you who destroyed us."

"I was trying to leave," Joanna cried, "why didn't you just let me leave?"

"We would never hear the end of it, people would hate us for it. But if you died, if we mourned, then-" Lacrissa sighed, returning to an almost sober state. "It doesn't matter anymore. You ruined us anyway."

Javeen gritted her teeth. "You should leave. I will let you leave."

"But she's still here," Lacrissa whined, grabbing what looked like a small razor, "let one thing that I tried actually work!"

Javeen took out Arzhela in a flash, notching an arrow. "Leave. Now."

She laughed, about to move forward when she stopped in her tracks. The laughter died in her throat, staring directly behind them. She backed away one, two steps, shaking. Javeen's eyes narrowed, glancing behind her. Her heart almost stopped seeing the Arishok there, taking one of his giant war axes off a shoulder and glaring intently at the invader in front of him. He moved forward.

 _No. No no, if you kill her then-_

Lacrissa screamed in terror, turning tail and sprinting down towards the huge stairs leading out of the docks. It was late, so not many people were around, but the ones who were stopped to stare. They all saw the Arishok follow- axe in hand- and...

But she did not make it very far.

Because an arrow pierced her heart as she ran.

She didn't make a sound as she fell, blood splattering the ground and pooling when she stopped moving. The Arishok stopped, and turned slowly towards the one who stole his kill. Shaking, Javeen lowered Arzhela.

"Always," she whispered to him, and the Arishok's eyes grew warm.


	21. Viddathari

She had done it. She was Qunari now.

Joanna took a deep breath, calming her nerves as she waited to be called. There was a small ceremony for joining the Qunari when one was not born into it-there's a special earring that indicates your status of "viddathari." Of...of converts.

She was warned. She was warned by both the healer and by Camlen. Now that she was Qunari, she would have to throw away everything that she knew, especially... she had to throw away the Maker. No more praying to him and hoping one day he would return. No more festivals and thanking him for the good things in her life. She touched her broken eye slightly, gritting her teeth.

It wouldn't be so hard to let go.

It was the healer who fetched her, a big smile on his face. It was nice to get him away from having to constantly watch over Hawke as she recovered from the purge. He barely slept now. He was adorned with different jewelry-long golden earrings and paint under his eyes. He reached out his hand to her. "Come, viddathari. It is time."

When they arrived, all of the viddathari were there to watch. They were wearing different earrings too-but they were shorter than the healer's. Camlen grinned ear to ear as she passed him. The Mashaar was present as well, with the exact jewelry and face paint as the healer. And then it hit her. They were older viddathari-or, at least that was what they once were. Before they got their role.

A lit brazier stood up on the dais of the Arishok, who sat on his throne. It was strange, she didn't feel that fear, that nervousness she once did around him. Maybe it was because now, she could feel that sense of protection, of belonging that wasn't there before. She was lead up the stairs, and she stood before the flaming brazier. The healer took her chin in his hand and observed her ear-checking to see if there was already a hole. It was been a long time since she had worn any earrings, so she needed to have it done again.

He took out a long needle, and a flash of fear went through her- brief and the same fear she felt the first time she got her ears pierced- but soon it was over with not as much pain as she remembered. Then, the healer put the earring she recognized as the viddathari's in her left ear, and said a few words in Qunlat she did not yet understand. The words echoed throughout the ones witnessing, including the Arishok.

It was a short ceremony, but Joanna bubbled with joy.

She noticed an immediate change within the Compound after. Qunari would seek her out, ask her to do things, and help her out with language and procedures without being told to. She felt alive again, helping out all day in a place where she belonged. Only the nagging fear of losing her eye kept her down some days.

She fought hard not to think of mother.

* * *

Happily, she mostly stuck to the healer's side, learning about medicine and poultice-making. She wasn't allowed to learn swords since the combat was Antaam specific, so there was no point in her learning something she could not join later. It didn't matter to her, medicine was absolutely fascinating-especially making poultices and managing ingredients. They all did something so specific and it never struck Joanna before just how amazing it is to have something like a medicine, which would have taken such ingenuity to discover in the first place, that in the end would save so many lives.

Oddly enough, she kept comparing her progress not with other viddathari, but with Hawke. The language was quite difficult to grasp, and she kept secretly chiding herself that she didn't pick it quite as fast as Hawke seemed to; and she wasn't even Qunari.

The healer noticed her anxieties after Hawke woke up. After...that visit from mother. When she came to the Compound, Joanna couldn't hide those nerves as well as she did before. He pulled her aside one morning, after a long lesson that wasn't going well enough for her.

And he said something she would never forget.

"Go at your own pace. You have your life to learn this. We will not abandon you for being slow."

 _We will not abandon you._

She thought of her mother's angry face as she refused to return with her, and silent tears ran down her face.

* * *

Her eye was never going to recover.

She continued her work, but her mind was frozen. Limits had always been a terrifying concept, but now that she had finally, finally found a new place, having more limits shook her to her core. If she could not be fully useful, then she was of no use at all. Joanna's mind didn't let her have a middle ground. It spun many tales of being left behind, not shaping up...and crawling back to the hell that she came from.

"Viddathari," the healer called, "I require a new batch of _ha'a nevek_. Enough for a flask."

Joanna blinked out of her increasingly dark thoughts. "R-right away, healer."

Okay, he requested more numbing potion. She grabbed all the ingredients-several types of plants along with purified water and honey. She mashed up the plants together carefully until they no longer looked like plants at all. She mixed it together with a bit of honey, then boiled the water. It all melted into a somewhat sticky liquid when it was finished, that one could drink or apply onto the skin. The plant's combined numbing affects were strong, but she would have to take this new batch to the Saarebas, for a bit of magical enchanting to complete the potion. Otherwise, you could only use the potion for minor pain.

She rushed over to deliver the potion, leaving it up to the handlers to assign. It would take a while for the enchantment to be completed, so she returned to the healer's tent. The healer had moved on to a new patient. It was the one who collected the lost weapons on the battlefield-she couldn't remember the title exactly- and it looked like he was having trouble with his hands and arms. Every time he relaxed his arms on his leg, he flinched and raised them again. The same when he closed his fists. But nothing looked wrong...no rash, no physical injury. The healer pondered what could be the cause.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I am unsure what caused this...it sounds as if there are needles in his skin, small ones from a plant. But those usually cannot penetrate our skin, as it is thicker and we use a hardening substance in our...eh, 'warpaints.'"

"Water and soap didn't help?"

The healer shook his head. "Usually, one can see the needles as well, small as they are."

That honestly sounded like... "That's probably the barbed Kirkwall."

Both qunari blinked at her.

"There's a rare plant in Kirkwall-looks like a normal bush-but has these...small needles that have little black burs on the tips, so small you can't see them at all. They sit almost inside the skin if you touch them. And they hurt. A lot."

She knew this very well, as she fell into one as a child.

"The needles are so small and powerful that it can get through pretty much any kind of skin-even the wild boar have problems with them."

The healer smiled at her. "And how do we get rid of them?"

"Animals have to wait until the burs dissolve naturally, which can take weeks. But when I-uh. When I fell into a bush once, we took them out by mixing water and flour together. It makes a sort of glue, right? Then you spread it all over the area, let it dry, and peel it off. The burs should come with it."

The healer nodded. "A sound solution, viddathari. Ask the Maashar for some flour at once."

Joanna beamed. "Right away, healer!"

With obtained water and flour, along with a paintbrush, Joanna spread the glue substance down the qunari's arms- who looked a little bashful, Joanna noted with a small smile- and they waited until a nice crust formed from the dried flour. As soon as she began the process of peeling back all the glue, the afflicted qunari sighed a breath of relief as the irritants were pulled out of his skin.

The qunari thanked her when she finished, to which she waved away cheerfully. She noticed the healer scribbling away in his notebook, and she peered over his arm to see. She wasn't tall enough to peer over his shoulder. From what little Qunlat she knew, she could only read a few words, but it was enough. He was writing down the glue trick.

"That book is so full, I didn't think there was anything new to put in it!"

"The only day I stop learning, viddathari," the healer chuckled, "is the day I die."

* * *

Joanna stared at the tiny mirror. More accurately, she stared at the long scar across her left eye, how it ran up through her eyebrow and ended just past her cheek. It was long and noticeable, puffy scar tissue becoming a road on her face, as it were. A road leading up to a blank eye.

The fabric she held in her hand was so beautiful-so intricate. Red fabric weaved with gold that shone in the sunlight. But the fabric itself was smooth and silky. Strong and soft.

She nodded to herself. What she wanted to be. What she would become.

Ringlets of gold decorated the rim of the scarf, and she wrapped it around her head, covering the eye and the scar. She clipped the end together, and it stayed, covering only the left side of her face. Like an eyepatch but more...more her. She could not deny or run from her past. She used to be a noble. No longer, no, but it was there. She would use that experience to move forward, instead of catching her and tripping her up.

She took out the earring, the one that marked her as viddathari. Then, she hooked the wire through one of the ringlets, and let the earring hang down the front of the scarf. It dangled right where her eye was.

She had limits. There were things she could no longer do. But her people would not reject her for it, and thus, she should not reject herself anymore. She was Qunari. And her life had begun anew.

* * *

But her old life refused to let her go.

She recognized those drunken words too clearly. Instead of fear or anger...she felt nothing but pity for the woman who could not let go, who could not move forward. That was why she walked forward, out into the open, to see her one last time, leaving Hawke behind. And pity. Pity her anger, pity her vulnerability, pity her vindictive nature. Pity her inability to adapt and move on. It was not the Qunari way to handle it...but this time there were allowances. And the viddathari wanted one last bit of closure.

She placed a calming hand one on of the guards, who, as they all knew her history with this screeching creature, nodded and stepped back.

She faced Lacrissa with a steady eye. Suddenly, memories of the days when Papa was still alive began to play behind her, the images transparent. Dress shopping, family dinners, gift giving-mostly fruit, she loved giving fruit to her children, oranges and pears and-

Lacrissa was speaking, but she couldn't make out the words. The memories kept playing out, until the good ones ran out. Dried up, like an old river in the sun. Now all she could see was the drunken, terrified and murderous woman in front of her. She realized this was the first time she'd seen Lacrissa without makeup on, without her hair done up well, without any of the noble practices expected of women. That was odd, was it not? Was it normal to never see your own mother without those things? They lived together for years and years, and not once did Lacrissa ever show her her true face. She never trusted her. She never felt comfortable with her.

These were not revelations, but to see it so clearly now...

"What do you want, mother?" the viddathari asked, sighing. She used that title only as a familiarity. It was not actually true. That was when Hawke caught up to them, and placed a barrier between them.

And then she said it. Finally admitted it. And for some reason it made the viddathari feel lighter somehow, like she'd finally been freed from a tether she forgot was there. But her pity ran out too. "I was trying to leave," she heard herself saying, "why couldn't you just let me leave?"

A question she knew the answer to. Of course a woman like that wouldn't let her go. How could being freed feel so terrible?

But it was over. It was done. She had said it out loud, so there was no more of this...this thing between them, it was _over_. She was no longer her "daughter" no matter how much they pretended. She could go back to her sons and forget about her. She'd allow it. For her father, who at one point cared for this woman, at least a little.

If it was over why was the Arishok there.

Why did he have one of his axes in his hand.

Why was she running.

Why was Hawke pulling an arrow back.

When Lacrissa fell, she could not help but cover her mouth in horror, keeping back the scream in her throat. The Arishok turned to Hawke, who looked shaken at what she had done, but regardless lowered her bow and whispered something to him.

Anger began to build in the viddathari's stomach. There was nothing peaceful about the puddle of blood pooling around Lacrissa, nothing at all. She ran, she ran, she gave up, it was over-

"Viddathari," the Arishok called after some time had passed. "Return to your post."

She backed away slowly, tearing her eyes away from the body. She couldn't look at Hawke. She moved quickly throughout the compound, avoiding everyone, fighting back the tears that wanted to fall. She ran past Camlen who reached for her. When she reached the healer's tent, she rushed past all the patients and the healer, hiding away behind the large curtain where all the potions were kept.

Her body shook from the sobs that broke through.


End file.
